


Never Again

by angelslaugh



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ancient Elf Stuff, Bisexual Lavellan, Crack and Angst, Emotional Baggage, Fade Shenanigans, Flashbacks, Fluff and Crack, Graphic Description, Half This Cast Has Parental Issues Apparently, Jealous Lavellan, Jealous Solas (Dragon Age), Judgmental Cassandra, Minor Injuries, Multi, Nicknames, Non-Graphic Smut, Parental Issues, Serious Injuries, Slave Culture, Slavery, Unconsciousness, Violence, Weird Plot Shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 34,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28793874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelslaugh/pseuds/angelslaugh
Summary: Slightly crazy Leilani is not a typical elf - in that she has not died in the last thousand plus years since the Fall of Arlathan. She's been a slave, been imprisoned, angered way too many people because of one little incident... One could say she's seen it all by the time she joins the Dalish in an attempt to get away from it all.Until she goes with Telahn to the Conclave, intending on leaving Lavellan. Instead, it ends up with her neck on the line, repeating to anyone who will listen 'I don't care'. Problem is, they're lovable lil' shits and she catches FEELINGS, which for Leilani is Not Good; she knows they're going to die later, so why should she CARE?
Relationships: Eventual Solas/ Female Lavellan, Minor Female Lavellan/Others, Minor Female Lavellan/The Iron Bull
Comments: 41
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ....should totally be working on 'Lingrean Rosal'sule'din', actually, but fuck it, THIS lil' plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. 
> 
> (also i may be a little stuck on the ending of that series, 'cause I'm unsure as to what the fuck I should do, so if you're here because of that series, I'm truly sorry! I am going to update it, but just... not right now...)
> 
> (Alternative Title: The Socially Awkward and Inept Attempt of Seducing a Fellow Immortal Elf When You Don't Know They're Also Immortal)

Leilani opened her eyes in a haze of pain.

 _This cannot get any worse,_ she thought as she opened her eyes to a dungeon. _Oh, wait,_ she laughed silently as a redheaded woman descended from her spot. _I was wrong. It most certainly can._

Pain spiked through her hand again.

“Oh, fuck,” she managed to say, staring at her hand. “Oh fuck, what happened? No, no, no, I can’t be – No, no,” she moaned, trying to shake it off – never again, _never again!_ “How – how did this even _happen?_ How did I end up here?!”

The last thing she remembered was speaking with Telahn before entering the –

“Oh, Maker’s breath,” she jolted. “What happened to the Conclave?”

“You do not remember?” asked the redheaded woman, frowning at her.

“I… I remember we were entering the temple,” Leilani replied, closing her eyes and… Nope, she still could not remember. “I don’t… What happened?”

“You killed the _Divine,_ is what happened!” A Seeker strode inward, her hand on her sword pommel.

“The Temple of Sacred Ashes exploded,” the redheaded woman explained. “Do you expect me to believe you do not remember anything?”

“You should,” Leilani snapped. “Why would _I_ want to explode the Temple of Sacred Ashes? I have _nothing_ to gain from –“ She stopped. “What about the other elf? He – he had to have survived. What about Telahn?”

They exchanged glances.

“You were the only survivor,” the redheaded woman said, her voice gentling. “There are still remains being found… If you help us, I will see what I can do if you desire to look for him.”

“Help you do _what?”_

~:~

“Maker’s bouncing _balls,”_ Leilani said, staring at the sky. “The _explosion_ caused this?”

“Yes,” the templar said, turning to her. His eyes were hard as he eyed her – Leilani affixed her attention upon the hole in the Veil, steadily ignoring the man. “The explosion ripped a hole in the –“

“In the Veil, I’m aware,” Leilani interrupted, her voice cold. “I’m not _un_ educated.” She turned to the Seeker. “We have to close that up.” Not because she cared, of course, but these humans would not be used to the Fade if it bled through. Neither was Leilani, but at the very least she knew what the world was _supposed_ to be.

“ _Hmph._ I know this,” the Seeker said, annoyed. “You are still a prisoner.”

Leilani bit back an annoyed, angry curse. _No, really. It’s fucking obvious, Seeker._

“If you go to the forward camp with the prisoner, Leliana should be there to help out.” He hesitated for a moment. “Be careful. Nobody will be pleased to see you out of your cell.” He spoke directly to Leilani.

Leilani jiggled her cuffs. “I’m as helpless as a babe,” she said, sarcastically.

“Which means you won’t be able to defend yourself if they decide to mob you,” he cautioned.

“Thanks for the warning, handsome, but I’m an elf,” she said. “I’ve survived much worse than a mob of angry humans.” …well, that was stretching it, as most of her attackers in her life _had_ been humans. Funny how that worked out – NOT.

“We must go if we are to stop the Breach from widening any further,” the Seeker said, shoving Leilani forward.

Leilani grit her teeth as she struggled forward. She could suffer this indignity, because it wasn’t as if she _couldn’t_ find a way out of these shitty chains if she _really_ tried.

“Hold!”

 _Demon._ Leilani watched the Seeker start to hack away at the demon; Leilani spotted another one and turned, searching for a weapon.

 _Staff._ Nope. Not going there. _Daggers._ Yes. _Yes!_

Leilani awkwardly picked up the daggers and swiveled, readying her body for the attack. The despair demon lunged – Leilani kept up her own defense until the Seeker sliced it in half.

It faded.

“Drop your weapons,” the Seeker commanded, aiming her sword at Leilani threateningly.

“Fine,” Leilani said, opening her hands. “I’ll just stay in danger and let you be the knight in shining armor.”

The Seeker’s face softened, and she sheathed her sword.

“Do _not_ stab me in the back,” she said, bringing out keys and _finally_ undoing the chains. One would think being on a fucking _battlefield_ would allow the Seeker to give Leilani an excuse to be unchained.

“Wouldn’t be able to,” Leilani said, sarcasm her only defense. “I can’t drive a knife through armor of people who unlock my chains. It’s one of my only weaknesses.”

She picked up her knives again.

~:~

She could feel a familiar energy singing near their location as they ran up the snow-laden steps; Leilani controlled her wince as they approached the dwarva and the elf currently fighting some demons. Leilani clutched her knives and dove in silently, catching the rage demon off guard. Her back hit another’s; she felt him start in surprise before he relaxed, his arms moving rapidly. Leilani kept them off his back, as she’d done with many, _many_ of her comrades when taking out demons in the early days of her enslavement.

“Here!” A firm hand grasped hers, twisting it upwards; she dropped the knife in it and caught it afterward as a searing pain exploded through her palm.

It ended before she looked up, pins and needles jabbing through it and not ceasing. _Oh, this is not going to be fun._ She turned to thank the man, but as he turned to her, she froze.

 _Fen’Harel…?_ She frowned, lips parting in confusion. He looked to her like she was a ghost.

 _No,_ she decided a second later, stepping back from him. _It’s not him. Probably just a descendant._ After all, she’d only caught a glimpse of his face. Also, Fen’Harel had had hair, so… Most likely a descendant.

“Varric Tethras,” the dwarf was saying. “And this is Bianca.”

She dragged her attention off of the other and smiled at the dwarf.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, nodding at him. “Master Tethras.”

“And my name is Solas, if there are to be introductions,” intervened the other elf. Leilani turned back to him.

Leilani had long forgotten Fen’Harel’s voice, but this was far, _far_ removed from it. Fen’Harel’s voice was smooth and dark; this one… he was polite, and formal. Only to _her_ was Fen’Harel _ever_ formal – to everyone else, Fen’Harel was just… smooth and sexy. Other words of her fellow slaves.

“I am glad to see you yet live,” he continued, smiling at her.

“He means, he kept an eye on the mark while you slept,” Varric tossed over to her. “Anyway, we cleaned out this nest of demons. Ready to continue to the forward camp?”

“ _You_ are not going anywhere, _prisoner,”_ the Seeker growled.

Leilani smirked, shifting on her feet.

“Oh, you’re a prisoner too? Seeker’s kinda obsessed with us, isn’t she?”

The dwarf laughed. “You could say that again. You need all the help you can get, Seeker.”

“ _Ugh,”_ the Seeker grunted. “I hate both of you,” she grumbled, not sounding like she meant it. Or maybe she meant it. Leilani didn’t… She didn’t actually care if the Seeker meant it, actually. So.

Leilani turned back to Solas.

“Thank you,” she said, offering him a smile.

He inclined his head.

~:~

Leilani blinked at the redhead and Seeker’s looks to her.

“What?” she asked, baffled. “You’re leaving the decision to _me._ The _prisoner.”_

“It is your life at stake in all of this,” the redhead said. “You could just as easily leave if you desire.”

Leilani stared at her.

Telahn had said that to her right before her memory fucked her over and went dark in the Temple.

“You said I could look for him if I helped,” she said, her words quiet. “I will not dishonor our clan. I will continue forward, and I believe going…” She hesitated… and forged on. “…the most direct path.” _I want this over._

The redhead nodded, her face never changing.

Leilani turned away.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Help me!”_

_Leilani entered the room._

_“Oh, fuck,” she said, clutching her knives. “You wouldn’t happen to buy that I was looking for the kitchens – hello, Divine,” she nodded, cordially._

_“You!” Corypheus stared at her. “How do you still live?”_

_“Who the hell are you to ask that question? Never mind, I don’t give a fuck! Release the Divine!”_

_“Kill the elf!”_

_Chaos exploded._

Leilani tried not to show the shock she felt on her face. It wouldn’t be good – if anyone found out…

She was rubbing her side in remembered pain; she forced herself to stop.

 _Sethius._ Her old master.

How the fuck was he still _alive?_ Leilani thought she’d fucked him over enough. He had been _dead._ And now he was alive, and apparently he remembered her. Apparently she hadn’t remembered _him,_ though. Weird.

Well, she was even _more_ fucked.

The Pride demon roared. Leilani stunned it with a wave of her hand, watching with detached interest as the Veil connected with her.

She did this, over and over – until her own strength flagged – until the demon was gone, dissipating into the wind, and the Breach was closed – not well, but Leilani literally couldn’t keep going. Leilani sank to her knees, breathing hard as spots danced in front of her vision.

“We did it!” the Seeker sounded winded and surprised and pleased. As though she hadn’t expected Leilani to actually _do_ it. Well, the Seeker could find herself a –

Leilani gasped as intense pain just _ripped through her side,_ a short, choked scream cutting the exultations short. The scent of burning skin made her cringe even as she lifted her ripped tunic – the brand in her skin was red. _Red._

She blinked, and it was blue again; the skin around it was still red, and it flared up again, a deeper red flush surrounding it.

_No, no, not again._

“What is wrong?”

It was Solas, crouching in front of her.

“My… side,” she gasped. “It’s not supposed to do this.”

His eyes widened at seeing it.

“Who -?” he shook his head. “I shall see if there are any remedies I can make to ease your pain,” he said. “Perhaps you should pretend to be faint. I can numb the area.”

“Please do,” she groaned, letting herself go limp as he placed a freezing hand on it – it seared, but she forced herself to remain still.

“Solas!” the Seeker’s words were sharp. “What is happening?”

“She is unconscious, Seeker Cassandra.” Solas removed his hand from her side. “ _Keep lax,”_ he murmured to her.

 _Easy._ Leilani had done it hundreds of times to actually get some rest. Some of the time it had landed her in deep shit, but Leilani had managed to remain herself for thousands of years.

It was a fucking _miracle_ she hadn’t gone insane, but that was also, maybe, due to the several stretches that were spent in apparently a fucking intense drinking stupor, because Leilani could literally _not_ remember several decades of time.

He picked her up – _damn,_ Solas had muscles.

Leilani let her breathing come naturally, as she knew unconsciousness to come with.

“ _Hmmph.”_ Seeker Cassandra sounded annoyed.

~:~

Solas set the elf down on the bed. The elf didn’t move, seemingly truly asleep. He hesitated, wondering if the mark would affect her now – he presumed Adan would come and watch her, so he left the cabin and wandered.

Upon first seeing her, he’d been startled. For a moment, he could’ve sworn Mythal stared at him from odd eyes. She’d looked at him, too, like he was familiar. He dismissed that – he could very easily been mistaken for literally anyone, at this point.

In sleep, she’d just looked like a smaller Mythal. It was uncanny. And her eyes… Her eyes disturbed him, for an unknown reason.

Solas breathed as he entered his own cabin.

He needn’t worry; he would simply have to use other means to get what he needed. He settled down to think, but he could only ruminate on where he had seen her eyes – violet to the point of almost purple, he _knew_ them from somewhere. He didn’t know exactly _where._

He was distracted by a hammering at his door. Varric stood there.

“Hey, Chuckles. Seeker’s trying to find you. Might not want to be here when she comes knocking,” the dwarf advised.

“I appreciate the warning. However, I do not fear the Seeker’s –“

“Adan says he won’t treat the Herald,” Varric interrupted. “Not anymore.” He arched a brow.

Solas frowned.

“Why?”

“The mark on her hand reacted when he went in her cabin,” Varric shrugged. “Adan swore he touched nothing, but the mark hasn’t reacted to me. I don’t know how to heal. Seeker’s going to threaten to cut your head off again, most likely.”

Solas nodded at him. “Again, I appreciate the warning,” he repeated. “But I will speak with the Seeker, and should she attempt to cut my head off…”


	3. Chapter 3

Leilani left the cabin in the tunic she’d found in the wardrobe – a bit loose, but nothing she couldn’t handle.

Leilani ignored the whispers and stares and instead just focused on the Chantry.

She couldn’t afford to make friends; in the last few thousand years she’d seen so many of them just leave or die – one of the reasons she’d left with Telahn. While she had made the mistake at calling him _friend,_ he’d lasted longer than many of said friends.

Her inability to die was fucking _annoying,_ in that she could never stay with a clan or in the Dalish community more than a few decades at a time before her ‘I don’t have any memory’ schtick was no longer applicable. Besides, when Deshanna had attempted to get her to portray Mythal at the annual Day of First Praise, Leilani had _exploded_ at her, shouting about how Mythal wouldn’t give a shit about anyone; Leilani had left with Telahn not long afterwards.

“Why are you not in chains?” the human who Leilani had completely ignored at the forward camp raised his hands. “Guards, chain her!”

“Stand down,” the handsome human said, waving them aside. “Father Roderick, antagonizing the person who saved your life is not, typically, a very good idea.”

No, it wasn’t. If Leilani wanted to, she could fuck ‘Father Roderick’ up pretty bad. She didn’t feel a particular _desire_ to, but the point was she _could._

“Furthermore,” Leilani piped up, “I’m Andrastrian.”

The handsome human’s brows shot up as Father Roderick’s jaw dropped. The aged human sputtered incoherently at her serious face; he left, gibbering something about ‘Cassandra will deal with you’.

The handsome human cleared his throat. “I appreciate you diffusing the situation, Herald, but you needn’t pretend for our sake.”

He colored when Leilani glared at him.

“I may not approve or serve in a Chantry, but I _am_ Andrastrian,” Leilani snapped. “I don’t _worship_ Andraste, or anything stupid like that. She was mortal, after all.”

 _But she was my friend, too._ Another _fine_ example of friends of Leilani dying.

“Oh. My apologies,” he said. He held out his hand. “Cullen Rutherford.”

Leilani smiled tightly. “Mirwen,” she offered, shaking his hand. “You may call me Mirwen.”

She followed him through the Chantry, blinking as a dark-skinned woman spoke Elvhen.

“ _Andaran atish’an,”_ the woman greeted.

Leilani smiled. “You know some Elvhen. Hi.”

“That was the extent of it, I’m afraid,” she laughed, nervously. “Lovely to meet you.”

“And you,” Leilani returned politely… Completely missing her name as she turned to the redheaded woman. “I’m Mirwen,” she said. “Where are the remains that were not taken? I – I have to send him home, if…”

_If he didn’t make it._

“We have to talk about –“ began the redhead, only for Leilani to step into her space. The redhead’s eyes widened – Leilani was her height, after all. Another oddity that marked her as _odd_ even to the Dalish – her height, while actually tall for a woman in Arlathan made her as tall as a human woman. Thank the Maker for beautiful and handsome parents. Hilariously, it kept Leilani looking _great._

“I don’t give a _fuck_ about your _shem_ ways,” Leilani said, her voice deadly quiet. “I _want to find my friend.”_

The woman nodded, taking a small step back from Leilani’s presence. Leilani kept her scowl present as the redhead gestured for a guard to come to Leilani.

The guard led her to the remains of the people still being burned; Leilani didn’t know how long passed before she found him.

He was missing his lower half, and burn marks marred most of him, but she recognized her friend. Telahn was dead. She never, _never_ should have called him her _friend._ Most people whom she called _friend_ died horrible, shitty deaths.

“I need –“ Leilani didn’t touch him. “I need his ashes,” she said, her voice breaking. “Please,” she said, her eyes stinging.

She thought it wouldn’t hurt, as much. But of course it did.

A long time later, she clutched an unmarked box to her body. She ignored the eyes of the people around her; Telahn deserved to go home, after all.

“I need you to take him back to Lavellan, please,” she said to the redhead, of whom she had no idea the name of. Still.

“Would you like to write a letter to your clan as well?” The redhead seemed to soften at seeing the box.

“Sure,” Leilani managed.

~:~

_Keeper Deshanna,_

_Telahn did not survive. I do not know what happened, and believe me when I say I did not intend for this outcome. As Dalish tradition dictates, I had him burned. His remains are in the box; I could not do the rituals for him and leave that to you._

_I wanted to apologize for my outburst, Keeper, but I also wanted to reassure you that no matter what, I am not returning to Lavellan. You and I both know it is no longer a place I would consider home._

_Thank you for your hospitality._

_Dareth shiral,_

_Leilani Mirwen Ashalanel’vhen_

Leliana eyed the letter with confusion. It was not often she _was_ confused; this letter indicated that Leilani was not a Lavellan, merely staying with the Lavellan. All reports to her spies had indicated that Telahn and Leilani had been knit close together until their abrupt separation for an unknown reason inside the Temple.

And her surname… Leilani did not even think herself a Lavellan.

“You called for me, madam?”

She turned to Solas, a veritable mystery; she let the letter flutter to the table, a little flick ensuring it folded and turned upside down.

“I wanted to ask you for clarification on an elven word,” she said, smiling at the Fade expert. “Mirwen said… _ashalanel’vhen,_ and I was simply wondering if you knew what it meant.”

Solas smiled. “It means ‘daughter of the People’,” he explained. “In context, would mean several different things.”

“She said it as a label for what she was,” Leliana mused aloud. “And, as I presume you’re aware, Mistress Lavellan is not prone to explaining herself.” She tended to vanish if one actively looked for her.

“No,” Solas affirmed, clasping his hands behind her back, “even from my limited interaction with her, she is not. It could mean she has forsaken the Dalish and become a wanderer, but she would only describe herself as such to the Dalish, or you… If she knew you were reading her letters.” Leliana noted how shrewd his eyes were as they fell upon the parchment.

“I see,” Leliana hummed. “Thank you.”

Solas bowed his head and retreated from the room.

Leliana realized something, though.

Both Solas and Leilani had the same aura around them.

The aura of many, many secrets. Leliana had to admit to being intimidated by Leilani before – it was like her eyes had summoned a storm only seen inside those eyes.

Leliana doubted either elf – hobo apostate and angry Dalish – was telling the whole truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...so, y'know... I live for notes, and while you may think this chapter is ridiculous, this is generally more a 'what if' scenario. So. Please. PLEASE. Review.
> 
> And a 'kudos' wouldn't be amiss either.
> 
> Also, before i get people who start the whole 'she's a Mary-Sue' thing with me a little later on... Ha. HA. Yeah, she's a mage, but VERY few people actually can stand her. I like to think she gets a little more bearable as she goes along.


	4. Chapter 4

Leilani curled her lip at the bear.

“ _Die!”_ she shouted, leaping upon its back and agitating it. Stabbing shit was always cathartic, Leilani had long-since realized, whether it be fucking sylvans with a crew of other assorted people during the Day of First Praise week with burning anger in her body or a fucking squishy demon.

The bear dropped. Leilani gritted her teeth together.

“Grit your teeth any louder,” Cassandra said, loudly, “and you might ruin them.”

“Oh, give it a fucking _rest,_ Seeker.” Leilani shot her a glare. “This wasn’t _my_ idea, you know. I would’ve been _ecstatic_ to go alone.”

“And you know very well I could not let you or Varric go alone,” Cassandra countered.

Leilani snorted, hopping on her horse.

“Watch me,” she said, flicking the reins. Her horse immediately followed her direction, going even faster as she clicked her tongue and leaned forward.

Cassandra shouted out a vile curse, Varric whooping – their sounds were lost as she let the horse take her where he would – and, as her eyes widened as she crested the hill, she jerked to a stop.

Mages and templars were fighting. As a personal rule, Leilani had always tried to never get involved. But a Chantry mother – _several_ Chantry people – were tending to wounded people, and Leilani couldn’t abide by the injured getting even _more_ injured.

Or, well, _dead._

So… It was with reluctance that she dismounted and Fade-stepped to the Chantry mother’s side in time to cast a barrier on her.

She tamped down her magic use immediately after – she didn’t need much magic here, anyway.

Also, no staff, and while she had the ability to _not_ use a staff, it was clearly a rare ability; she wasn’t going to fuck herself over.

“Hey, you lousy shitheads!” She picked up a stick and threw it at the group of fighting mages and templars. They stopped their life-and-death fight and turned to glare at her. “Find another place to fight, okay?” She made a shooing motion as she approached them.

“This isn’t any of your business, _Dalish,”_ sneered the templar.

“No, it isn’t,” Leilani smiled, pleasantly. “But it _is_ my pleasure if you insist on fighting in the middle of the already _wounded and dying._ Okay?”

A mage threw a fireball at her. Leilani took the floating book of the one nearest her and let the book protect her before she lobbed it at the other.

He screamed, the book collided with his skull, and all hell broke loose.

Leilani let out a short shout of surprise as the mage whose floating book she’d stolen lunged at her and tackled her.

What followed, Leilani was pleased to say, led to both parties vanishing to otherwhere. Even though it meant that she was the one who ended up sitting against a wall of stone, holding a cold, wet rag to her face. She didn’t have a broken nose, thank the Maker; instead, all she had was a black eye.

Cassandra rushed in and stopped, Varric and Solas staring at her with amused and flat stares respectively.

“What did you _do?”_ Cassandra growled.

Leilani grinned. Her split lip broke open again.

“Brained an apostate with a book and started a fistfight with a templar and a mage,” she said, satisfaction coating her voice. “It was fun. Also, no _casualties_.”

It was a pointed reference to the Seeker bringing down and engaging every mage and templar they _happened_ to meet. It was fucking _annoying._ And it cost so many _potions._ Adan had already been notified they’d only made it a day and used all their damn potions. He was bound to be displeased.

The Seeker scowled. “The templar and mage war –“

“I _know,”_ Leilani snapped. “I know what happened in Kirkwall, okay? But killing _all_ of them is bound to piss off _everyone,_ alright? Maker’s fucking _breath,_ Cassandra, this isn’t an excuse for you to go _murder happy._ Pick a side, dammit.”

The Seeker looked even more displeased with her words.

Leilani caught Solas’ arched brow. He looked moderately impressed.

Leilani’s heart did a weird flip. She turned away, feeling her face heat up.

“Are you with the Inquisition?”

Leilani blinked at the Mother she’d stopped from getting horribly murdered.

“Yeah,” she said.

“I am Mother Giselle. You must be the Herald of Andraste.”

“I’m sorry,” Leilani half-laughed. “The Herald of _who?”_

She was half-certain she’d misheard. Yeah, she’d been being called ‘Herald’, but she thought it was ‘Herald of the Fade’ or some shit. Because apparently she’d Fade-Walked. Physically. In the Fade.

“The Herald of Andraste,” Cassandra said, scowling. “Because you were sent by the Maker. Or Andraste.”

Leilani winced. “I would _not_ go that far,” she said. _Andraste certainly wouldn’t send **me** as her Herald. _Technically Andrastrian or not… She stood, keeping the damp cloth to her bruised eye. Cassandra began to talk to the other woman, and Leilani just wandered.

“Are you all right?”

Solas’ voice startled her; she tripped and caught herself on the wall.

“Wha -? No, I’m fine.” Leilani shook her head. Air hit her eye and she cringed a little, putting the cloth back on it gingerly. “I’m just irritated, is all. Cassandra just straight-up attacks literally _everyone_ we come across with, Varric keeps shooting fennecs out of boredom when we’re not fending off everyone else, and… Well… You don’t piss me off, actually.” Leilani grinned and winced again. “Sorry, didn’t mean to complain.”

“It’s fine,” Solas said. “I can heal your eye, if you wish.”

“It’ll be fine tomorrow.” It really would. “Now if you could take my _vallaslin_ off, _that_ would be better.”

She turned and winked at him, steps forward, and ends up collapsing as blackness fills her vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously... This was in part to my whole 'everyone is an enemy' in DA:I until after the whole templars or mages deal. I just imagine Leilani facepalming when a mage or templar rounds the hill and - bam! Cassandra attacks.
> 
> (to be fair, in-game I usually start the whole thing... ha...)


	5. Chapter 5

She woke up in her cabin in Haven, disoriented.

The door opened, and Solas walked in, his brow shooting up as he spies her very awake self.

“What happened?”

“You collapsed,” Solas said, his voice quiet. “And you did not wake.” He moved around the cabin. “You’ve slept for two weeks.”

“Huh.” Leilani frowned. “But I wasn’t injured all that bad…”

“No, you were not,” Solas grimaced, “but you were cut with a poisoned blade. I am surprised you did not die.”

Leilani fought to keep her face neutral as he moved through the room, and she finally gathered the strength to sit up. Her limbs were deliciously heavy – and her head was clear, her breaths came lightly… Today was a good day.

Also, apparently she was only wearing her breast binding, because Solas turned in the middle of her stretching and dropped the bowl of whatever he was lading into it – a soup of some kind. His face flamed and he turned away as Leilani watched through the corner of her eyes.

“You should dress,” he said, stiffly. “I had no idea someone came in before I. Adan refused to treat you again.”

Leilani sighed and moved, bemoaning that she was wearing leggings and snatched a fresh tunic from the ground before padding over to Solas.

“What are you making?”

He jolted. Leilani sensed the danger as he reacted to her silent steps, a chill freezing the air. She Fade-stepped away, slamming into the chest of clothes and then falling backwards again.

“ _Shit!”_

She lay there, a big spike of ice where she had once stood, not two feet away.

“Never,” Solas said, staring at her with wide eyes. “Do that again. Please.” He frowned then, as he moved, holding out a hand. She took it. “You’re a mage.”

She winced.

“Little bit, yeah.” She released his hand as he helped her stand, going back and leaning gently on the chest of clothes. “I… don’t really use magic these days.”

“May I ask as to why not?”

“Well…” She pressed her lips together. “Because of what happened at Kirkwall,” she settled on. It did play _a_ part, but certainly not the whole truth.

“You’ve not used magic for two years?”

_Two decades, actually._

“…a bit longer than that, but it is for a personal choice.” Mainly, the Dalish were the only ones who would readily accept her and not turn a stranger over to the Circle if she didn’t have magic.

The last time she’d been in a Circle, she very nearly had not escaped and _that_ was something she never wanted to happen again. She hadn’t been killed by her own phylactery. Maybe she should try and find it and hope nobody had used it in a horrible magical spell?

She’d been with the Dalish for two hundred years now, Lavellan the better part of two decades.

“What are you making?”

“I had an herbal soup ready,” Solas admitted. “I expected you to wake up, but I did not know when.”

“Oh.” Leilani smiled. “Thanks. Um. Sorry if you had to carry my dead weight around.”

“You’re relatively light,” Solas said, offering her a smile as he turned and held out the bowl.

“Thank you,” Leilani said, sniffing it experimentally.

The scent made her freeze for a moment.

“Are you all right?” Solas looked worried.

“My brother…” She shook her head and sipped from the side. She smiled. “This tastes like the soup my brother got me once,” she admitted.

Solas smiled. “I’m glad you enjoy it.”

Leilani smiled back at him.

~:~

Leilani headed up to the Chantry to begin another long week when she spotted a familiar face. Older, but it was the _definitely_ the same face.

“ _Krem!”_

Her delighted scream was right before she flung herself at the man was his only warning.

She removed herself after his muffled complaints. He coughed, looked up at her –

“ _Lavellan!”_

He threw his arms around her, hugging her for a brief moment before removing himself from her.

“What are you _doing_ here?” Leilani asked, beaming.

“Oh!” Krem laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Wanted to talk to the Herald of Andraste ‘bout the possibility of getting a job.”

Leilani’s smile melted. “Oh. Are you in charge now?”

_Was –_

“No,” Krem laughed. “I’m just the messenger The Iron Bull sent.”

“Oh damn…” Leilani placed a hand on her face. “Oh damn,” she repeated, recalling that… _exhilarating_ week. “Come on, Krem. Let’s go meet my dear old flame again.”

“No.” Krem made a face. “Last time you two saw each other you two were _eating each other’s faces-“_

“Oh, _Krem de la Crème, shhh.”_ Leilani pressed a finger to his face. “ _Shhhhh._ We go!”

“I really don’t think –“

“ _Shush!”_ Leilani shivered in delight at the thought of seeing The Iron Bull again. They’d had a delicious _thing_ going on that meant they fought and killed a lot of shit and then pretty much immediately jumped into sex together.

What? If anyone thought Leilani was still a fucking virgin after Maker _knew_ how many fucking centuries…

Anyway, she wasn’t taking Solas with her precisely _because_ of the whole… Well, she had a feeling Solas would be a bit judge-y in her taste of partners.


	6. Chapter 6

The Iron Bull finished fighting, turning and grinning at the elf who had joined him – only for a slow grin to take over his face at the image of a soaking wet blast from his past who was staring at him with her own slow grin. Quite a sight, too – the clothes were tight, stretched, and the rain wetting her body… _Delicious._

“Well, well,” he grinned, approaching her. “Thought you didn’t want to stay.”

She grinned up at him.

“It was never gonna work,” she called over the storm. “Best to make it a clean break!”

“Why’re you back, then?” he rumbled.

She grinned, shimmying up to him.

“Krem said you were in the market for work,” she called back. “Inquisition’s hiring, you asked to see the Herald… And, well, why not have some fun in the meantime?”

The Iron Bull nodded. “Wanna talk business now, or later?”

She looked at him with her brows up.

“I think later,” he said, and the smile on her face said he guessed right. “Don’t wait up for me!” he bellowed to his Chargers, sweeping the lithe elf off of her feet.

~:~

“What…” Cassandra blinked. “Where did –“

“Last time, they didn’t come out of Boss’ tent for nearly three days,” Krem said, giving them a resigned look. “Her and Boss had a weird… _thing_ going on.”

“I do _not_ understand,” Cassandra said, blinking.

“ _Sex,_ Seeker.” Varric looked amused. “She’s gonna have that Qunari –“

“ _Enough!”_ Cassandra wasn’t a prude by any means, but she had massive doubts that the Qunari would, ahem, _not_ harm Mirwen in the act of copulation. Also, hearing about an elf and a Qunari? Not… _exactly_ the thing she would have thought a _Herald of Andraste_ to do.

But then, Mirwen wasn’t just any kind of _Herald,_ was she? She was an elf, and Cassandra knew that something haunted the other woman. She didn’t try to integrate herself, kept to herself pretty damn well, and only really came out to drink.

In other words, she was the exact _opposite_ of the woman they really needed right then. A leader of the people.

And sleeping with a Qun? Cassandra wrinkled her nose.

That would piss off Leliana, if anything.

~:~

“You left as early as this last time, too.”

Leilani turned as she shoved her leggings on.

“No strings attached, Bull.” She smirked at him. “Thought you were a fan of the stuff.”

“True,” Bull nodded, “but while you _were_ overjoyed in seeing me, you just wanted away from someone who would pry, right?” Such as Cassandra, who attempted to pry at _any_ given moment.

“Something you’re doing right _now,”_ Leilani said, pointedly.

He sat up and caught her ‘round the middle, tugging her back. Leilani gave up.

“It’s pouring more than it does in the morning,” he rumbled. “I’m not sayin’ I don’t like it to be fun, but I’m thinking you wanna stay the night with someone else. I’m not gonna pry, promise.”

She sighed and shifted to where she was staring The Iron Bull in the face.

“If you tell your superiors about me,” she said, after a moment, “don’t mention I look the same as I did six years ago.”

His eye widened in the dark.

“Because _I_ don’t know what’s going on with me,” she said, hating to admit her own weakness, “but if you do… I’ll have to leave, Bull. And for once… I’m having a little bit of fun.”

~:~

The Iron Bull watched the small elf sneer and jibe back and forth with Dalish in a viciously friendly game of ‘fuck your clan’ and ‘fuck your clan’, then watched her turn to the irate Seeker and wiggled her brows at the dwarf, who just looked thoroughly entertained.

In the moments, though – in the long stretches where Dalish or most of the company was asleep on their horses because it was a frustratingly dull ride after leaving the Storm Coast, The Iron Bull noticed that the woman’s face would revert to sad and weary. It made her look older than she seemed to be.

Considering the woman seemed to be into half the kinks on Thedas, well… She _was_ a strange little elf, and he wasn’t just talking about how she _literally_ hadn’t aged since the last time he’d seen her, wandering drunk into the middle of his battle with magic trees and –

Well, _damn_ it, it made him hard thinking about _then_ because damn it, she was a badass fighter.

Knowing he’d be reporting her to the Qun, though, made it hard. He hadn’t mentioned her last time – mostly because fucking a woman for days on end with only a little bit of rest for _both_ of them was… _excessive,_ in the least, and in the end _she’d_ been the one to vanish in the middle of the night.

She’d left no tracks, either. He… Hadn’t looked all that hard, admittedly, but it was a bit awkward to have a tryst with such a weird woman and not find any proof that she even existed later when you were boasting about your sexual exploits.

And there was _that._

Varric and the Seeker were doing a bit of back and forth, and the Herald just looked… _entertained._ Like they were two children squabbling.

Maybe he was reading into it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vivienne and Leilani meet, and Solas and Leilani chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Val Royeaux does not happen here. It happens later.
> 
> Okay, to be honest... I actually forgot that Vivienne and the Herald didn't meet until she went to Val Royeaux, but I have a whole thing planned. I'll post another chapter later.

Leilani blinked at the ice freezing the insulting asshole. Leliana had received an invitation to someone’s party – or whatever noble people called parties these days. Gah, _nobles._ They annoyed her, but as long as she wasn’t really involved or the _main event,_ whatever.

“I don’t really give a shit,” she said, after a moment. “Let him go, I guess.”

The marquis’ eyes widened as the enchantress turned to him.

“It’s your lucky day that the darling Herald chose to spare your life.”

 _I… literally could not care less about one random guy I don’t even know the name of._ Her eyes lit on the food. She glanced at Varric as the enchantress touched the marquis’ face and motioned jerkily to the food. Power trip or not, she wasn’t going to let the enchantress get in the way of _food,_ no matter how weird it tasted.

And Orlesian food _did_ taste funky.

Varric stared at her before gesturing at Solas.

Leilani shook her head before jerking her head in a _go_ motion.

Varric scowled but shoved through the crowd.

“Now, Herald… Shall we conduct business elsewhere?”

“Can we eat first?” Leilani touched her stomach. “I am _terribly_ hungry, and while yeah, I would _love_ to talk about your future with the Inquisition but I would also _love_ to rip apart that cake, as I have not eaten all _day.”_

Vivienne stared at her for a moment.

“Your food,” Varric said, grumpily, shoving a plate at her.

“Thanks! You guys should mingle while the enchantress and I chat!” Leilani beamed at them.

Varric shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Follow me,” Vivienne said, rolling her eyes delicately.

~:~

Vivienne carefully poured two glasses of wine. The Herald looked generally uneasy; clearly her upbringing didn’t seem to include lessons on how to deal with nobility.

“I apologize for the display out there,” she said, as the Herald nibbled on her food. Vivienne noted she never ate fast – ate a portion appropriate to make it barely seen that she was actually eating. “Manners can often be forgotten. The Inquisition plays a vital role in the stability of the world at this moment.”

The Herald swallowed, wiping her fingers on a napkin.

“Your apology is accepted,” the Herald said, her voice flat. Her eyes were measuring Vivienne. “How long have you been the First Enchanter of Montsimmard, Madame de Fer? Almost twenty years?”

Vivienne nodded. “Of course, darling. However, the Inquisition is in a unique place –“

“- or you simply want more power,” the Herald interrupted, “and inside the Inquisition, you can consolidate your power.”

Vivienne smiled, opening her mouth to deny it.

“I like that,” the Herald said, nodding. “You’re using the Inquisition, just like the Inquisition would love to use you. Honestly, I’d just come out and say it. Working around the subject is simply tiresome.”

Vivienne hummed. “We’ll certainly have to work on your tact, darling,” she murmured into her drink.

“You might just find yourself surprised, Madame.” Violet eyes sparked. “I am far more capable than you would think at being _tactful._ I could also waste _both_ of our time by using words that simply recapitulate the same idea I just gave to you, but I shall _not_ do you that disservice. So spare _me_ the political _tact_ and say what you mean.”

Vivienne blinked in shock at her hard-clipped words, flowing elegantly from her lips in a rush with a pleasant accent Vivienne had never heard before.

“Very well,” Vivienne allowed. “To a relationship… _without_ tact between you and I.”

She raised her glass. The Herald of Andraste smiled thinly and did the same.

~:~

“The Chosen of Andraste,” Solas remarked upon seeing Mirwen passing by in Haven. Mirwen stopped and turned, a smirk sliding across her face. “A blessed hero to save us all.”

“Am I riding a dragon in this scenario?” she drawled as she approached him. Solas kept his eyes upon the younger elf as he spoke.

“Every great war has its heroes,” he replied. “I’m simply curious as to what kind you’ll be.”

“A good one, I hope,” Mirwen replied. “As the _Chosen_ One or whatever.” She grimaced.

“You don’t approve?” he inquired.

“I don’t think Andraste would have liked _me_ being her Chosen,” Mirwen replied, her voice soft.

“An interesting perspective, from a Dalish woman.” He watched her, carefully. He was rewarded with a flash of ire.

“As I am _constantly_ reminding people, I was a slave,” she said, her face twisting. “Andraste gave me hope when there was none. The tales of the Elvhen _gods_ did no such thing.”

Solas bent his head in acknowledgement, recalling her statement of the _vallaslin_ that decorated her face.

Of Mythal’s slaves, only the ones fully dedicated to her would receive the full _vallaslin_ upon their entire body. While there was no white filigree upon her hands, he noticed that faintly dark lines swirled along the backs of her hands, only faintly darker than her skin. It was not uncommon for that to happen in Arlathan, but her words had led him to believe a clan had given her what decorated her entire body.

“Apologies. I did not intend to insult you,” he began, only for the woman to arch a brow.

“You know, for an _elven_ expert in _elves,_ you clearly don’t understand _shit_ about the Dalish.” She folded her arms. “It is my belief that the Dalish are what the elves were _supposed_ to be in Arlathan.”

Solas furrowed his brow. “…and how do you come to this conclusion? They are subjected to the whims of humans.”

An amused smile danced on her lips.

“Not that part,” she assured him. “I meant… The Dalish have lived by their own rules; they have their own culture, all of it stemming from Arlathan. They may have bastardized the language somewhat, and even _these_ may not mean the same thing…” She waved her hand over her face. “They have changed the meaning of them, and _that_ is inspiring.”

“Do they even know what the meaning of them was for?” Solas asked, his voice quiet.

“No,” the woman smiled, and it was painful. “But they cannot be faulted for the failings of their predecessors.” She paused. “I wish I had been born a Dalish woman,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “But I was not, and now I must pretend to be one of them.”

“If you tell them the truth –“ he began, only for her to snort.

“Solas, I have _vallaslin_ on my face. Anyone who wears this upon their face is considered _Dalish_ simply because it is what the Dalish, and the Dalish alone, wear,” she pointed out, her voice flat. She looked towards the Chantry. “I just remembered. I have to be _elsewhere.”_

Before Solas could speak again, Mirwen was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the story is choppy. Problem is I can't do much work on it very often because I work and go to school and unfortunately I also require the thing known as sleep. Things IRL aren't really... going great, so please hang on and I'll try to fix up the choppiness of it later on. 
> 
> Thank you~
> 
> Also, if you have any questions please message me on tumblr!


	8. Chapter 8

Leliana stared at the writing on the phylactery, then looked back at Cullen.

He shrugged.

“There must be a mistake,” she said, calmly, trying to think of all possibilities. “There is no way she survived that long. Elves aren’t immortal, and if she was, she would be so old as to crumble into dust.”

Cullen sighed.

“I do not know how,” he said, honestly, “but there were several writings with it. One is a portrait of the woman.”

He set the parchment down.

Leliana delicately touched the parchment, then uncurled the drawing. It’s a sketch, and drawn in brilliant detail and definitely touched up with preservation charms. The woman in the picture was reading a book on dragons, but it was her face. The same dark hair, the same caramel skin, the same white blood markings, the same(ish) violet eyes…

_Leilani Isibelavahn Ashalanel’vhen, lightning mage. Unknown origin. Sent to Kirkwall with Dalish guards._

There was fucking _poetry_ by a guard who was clearly lusting after the woman, and nothing had been noted until the eve of the woman’s Harrowing – which had ended with the woman gone in the night because _apparently_ Kirkwall’s ritual Harrowing was –

“You put mages inside cells with _demons_ in them?”

“Spirits, and I only did three Harrowings,” Cullen said, lifting his hands as though in self-defense.

“Well, this one states they became demons within the hours she was put inside the cell… Cullen, this suggests that she died,” Leliana said, slapping the parchment down.

“Wait,” Cullen said, eyeing the phylactery. “Douse all the lights.”

Leliana sighed but blew out the candles.

It took a moment, but her jaw dropped when she realized what she was seeing.

“Impossible.”

The phylactery which had been bound to those papers glittered dully.

And only the living mages whose blood was bound to the phylactery had that kind of reaction.

~:~

“Your antics are juvenile at best,” Leilani countered. She gestured to the dead masked Orlesian guy. “This guy could’ve ended up one of the Inquisition’s best marksmen!” She froze. “Fuck, why am I _lecturing_ you?”

“I dunno, you seem to think you could do better,” Sera said with a sneer. “I mean if the Jennies can’t –“

“I don’t actually care about that Orlesian guy, though,” Leilani admitted, throwing up her hands. “Ugh, the _last_ thing I need is to start actually _caring_ about what people do. You’re hired, weird Red-Jenny-lady.”

“The name’s _Sera,”_ Sera pointed out.

“Yeah, _whatever,”_ Leilani said, a sarcastic smile on her face. “Not here to make friends, _Jenny._ Just here to save the world and hopefully stop the world from catastrophically ending from a bleeding hole in the sky! So, if you want to help me stop that particularly bad thing from happening and help people while you’re at it… You can come to the Inquisition. Or whatever.”

She waved her hands.

“You _really_ don’t give a shit?” Jenny called, sounding bemused.

“No,” Leilani ground out. “Because I’m _covered_ in blood and guts and I would _really_ like to fucking bathe already, hopefully without getting _showered_ in even more blood and guts.”

Jenny sniggered. “’Fore you go, and leave me all alone,” she chirped, bringing out a bag. “Might want these!”

She tossed the bag at Leilani.

Leilani made a face at the contents.

“Breeches, really?”

“’Could always use more breeches,” Jenny grinned.

Leilani found herself grinning back.

“You and I may just get along,” she mused aloud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything, as long as Sera doesn't prank her, Leilani might just end up getting along with her like two hay bales and fire.
> 
> (:


	9. Chapter 9

Leilani stretched in the morning light, watching dawn creep up.

“Why do you stretch so often?” Solas’ quiet question made Leilani turn her head to him.

“I like the feeling,” she said.

It wasn’t, actually, a lie. Nor was it the whole truth.

In the latter days of her enslavement to her mother, Leilani had had the… _dubious_ privilege of being in Mythal’s Temple Guard – guarding her farthest, most sacred Temple. Mythal had made her a Sentinel the day before her murder, so it wasn’t like Leilani could have any claim to the title because she didn’t _know_ where the Temple was anymore.

Anyway! Being a Guard was… Almost, _almost_ being a freed elf. Mythal did not like to travel the distance to the Temple, and there were an overabundance of Guards there. Mythal had allowed families to flourish – of course, it had to be with her blessing, so – within the Guard, and Leilani had… Enjoyed it.

Without being constantly aware of other peoples’ expectations of her abilities and without her father’s glare on her, Leilani had integrated there – lived with the Guard so long she’d picked up their habits. The Guard worked on a rotation, caught their own food, and, since the Temple had been in the middle of fucking _nowhere,_ they’d found ways to stave off the boredom.

Leilani had found her first love, then. It was in _exercise._

It was seriously weird, but Leilani did enjoy keeping her own body limber.

Also, it whittled down the hours, and if she wasn’t actively Guarding, there was no way in fucking hell that she wasn’t going to keep her body in shape.

She’d spent two decades with the Guard after Mythal had sent her there.

The Guard and Sentinels had been _family._ Not so much the Priestesses of Mythal, since most of them actively died on a… awfully regular basis, but the Sentinels had also kept close with the Guard. Mihren, whom she considered a brother, had brought her soup. The Sentinels were the only ones allowed to go inside the Temple itself and also go into Arlathan.

Well, actually – Leilani had only gone into the Temple thrice – once when she was guided through it by Mythal and taken to the Guard, the second when she was given the Sentinel mark on the outside of her left thigh, and the third the day after that during Mythal’s horrific murder.

Leilani groaned and slapped her face.

“Sorry,” she said, to Solas. “Lost in memories.”

She switched positions.

“Why are you up this early?” she wondered aloud.

“My wanderings in the Fade were… interrupted by a demon attempting to enter my dreams.” Solas sounded displeased.

Leilani turned to him, her eyes wide.

“You’re a _somniari?”_

He blinked at her. “Yes?”

“Oh, sorry. I meant, an, um – _shit.”_ Leilani did not recall the Common word for it. “ _I've'an'virelan,”_ she snatched out of thin air.

He looked honestly surprised.

“I am,” he said. “Are you? Most Dalish would not know that word?”

“Nope,” Leilani smiled and went for a half-truth. “I had a Knowledge spirit called to me a while back,” she explained. “He called me far too many names of ‘stupid’.”

“Spirits of knowledge do seem to have an air of superiority about them,” Solas agreed, offering her a smile. “You summon spirits often?”

“No,” Leilani snorted. “That was just a moment of boredom.”

“I see.” He was still smiling, which did something weird to Leilani’s chest. She frowned and continued stretching. “I did not want to breach the subject indelicately, but…”

He hesitated, obviously.

“Spit it out,” Leilani said, smiling. “If I don’t want to tell you, I won’t.”

“The lyrium brand,” he said. Leilani forced her smile to remain. “Am I correct in assuming that you were a slave in Tevinter?”

“Yes,” Leilani said, casting her eyes down. “I…” She reached for her toes. “I was a slave there, for a while. I was able to escape, though to be clear I had the bad luck of having several masters.”

One of which she bore a child for. _That_ one had been her last, mostly because nobody expected the elf in question to flee the day after birth. It had fucking sucked, walking directly after childbirth.

She released that position, going back to naturally sitting.

“Why did you mention your _vallaslin_ being removed?”

_Oh._

“Oh, I’m not really… _into_ this part of Dalish culture,” Leilani laughed.

“Did you not choose that marking?”

“I would _never_ choose this,” Leilani snapped unthinkingly, only to tense up afterwards. “Apologies, Solas. I did not intend to snap at you – I simply detest the insinuation that I _willingly_ chose this marking.”

He was silent.

“I see,” he said, after a long moment.

She wondered if he really did.

“Is that why you left?”

She snorted. “Leliana told you. Knew she would.” Solas was silent. “No, that’s not why I left. I left because I didn’t really belong with Lavellan, and I dread indeed to hear what Keeper Deshanna writes back.” She cleared her throat. “So, as a _somniari,_ do you have to actually _sleep_ to go into the Fade?”

“No.” He moved, coming to sit next to her. “If I stay still long enough, or if I am even on a horse, I may enter without sleeping.”

“Awesome,” Leilani muttered, glancing over at him. “Can it be taught?”

He looked at her with naked shock for a moment before his face closed.

“No,” he said, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “But I _can_ take you into the Fade, if you’re interested.”

Leilani’s eyes widened. “Are you _serious?!”_

He looked a little hesitant, but he nodded.

“That would be _amazing,_ Solas!” A thought occurred to her. “Can you seek out places one has already been?”

“Being in the Fade would depend on your life experiences.” _Shit._ “Since you are relatively young, you would not have many… And unless you know the location and are willing to travel there, not exactly.”

_Double shit._

“Okay… Maybe another time,” she murmured, her face tight.

He smiled, looking amused.

“It is not for everyone. I would not be offended if –“

“Solas,” she interrupted, looking at him. “I’m not scared of going into the Fade. That _would_ be awesome. I just… If the Fade is influenced by life experiences, then it wouldn’t be a good idea right now for me.”

He blinked.

“Oh.” He went quiet. “I see.”

_No, you don’t._

For a moment, they watched the sun slowly rise.

“…are you in a relationship with The Iron Bull?”

Solas’ question came out in a neutral tone.

“No.” Leilani turned her head, half-smiling at the other elf. “He and I… it’s physical, and yeah, we’re friends. But at the end of the day, I couldn’t be in a relationship with a Qunari any more than I could be in one with Varric. He’s too…” She struggled to find the word that wouldn’t completely freak Solas out. “Okay, fine. He’s too young for me.” Solas, in the middle of drinking, sputtered in shock at her wording. “What?” She saw the wide-eyed stare. “I prefer my partners older than I.”

So, like, _everyone_ was too young for her. No, she wouldn’t fuck _anyone,_ but the point was she definitely preferred them at least _mature._ Like Sol –

 _Oh, no._ No. She did not like Solas. She _tolerated_ him. He was definitely more her type, to be sure, but he seemed to be above such worldly things like relationships.

Also, he was going to die eventually, and Leilani would be alone. Again.

“And the Qunari _isn’t?”_

She gave him a secretive smile and did not answer, turning instead to light the fire.

“Can you tell me some stories about the Fade?” she asked, instead as she lit the fire by hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or AKA: She Gave You A Giant Hint, Solas.


	10. Chapter 10

Solas knew prying into Leilani’s past was bound to give him answers, whether by her answering or by her not answering, but her secretive smile did not answer his question – not in full. If she was older than The Iron Bull, why did she look like she was younger than even Leliana?

And if she was older than _Varric…_ Well, that wasn’t something he wished to discuss.

Speaking of the Qunari, The Iron Bull was coming out of his tent; the sun was long since risen. Since they were clearly not in a hurry, Solas said nothing.

“What smells good?” He rumbled, hunting for the food that Leilani was preparing.

“Elfroot extract,” the elf said, suddenly cheerful. “With a side of leaves.”

He knew that wasn’t what she was making.

“Sounds great.” Bull yawned. “Solas.” The big Qun nodded down at him.

“Iron Bull,” he said, cordially.

Sera, an archer, would meet them in Haven along with Vivienne.

“Is that food I smell?” Varric’s sleepy voice was matched by his appearance. “Chuckles,” he said, after rubbing his eyes. “Tiny.”

Bull laughed and nodded at him. “Varric.”

Leilani sat back.

“It’s done,” she announced. “I’m going for a walk. Been sitting for too long.” She stood in a fluid motion and walked out of camp. Solas had no doubt that she could take care of herself.

Still, he found himself chewing in awkward silence with the other two.

“So, Tiny.” _Shit._ Varric sounded pleased. “You and the Herald together?”

“No,” Bull said, his tone relaxed. “Cutie just knows what she likes.”

Solas wanted the ground to swallow him. The last thing –

“You two seem to know each other pretty well, is all,” Varric continued. “Old flame, perhaps?”

Bull snorted. “We’ve met before she found me on the Storm Coast,” he said, his voice relaxed still. “Six years ago, pretty thing comes in the middle of battle and, well.” Bull looked around Solas. “She was like a demon in her own fury – cut down seven of the fuckers in the span of a few moments before she was thrown backwards. Got up, completely pissed off, and… the rest is _fucking_ history.” He leered.

Solas cleared his throat, pointedly.

“Perhaps this is a subject better spoken _elsewhere,”_ Solas said, delicately. “In private. Amongst yourselves.”

“Why? Can’t appreciate the view?” Bull asked.

“I cannot appreciate someone explaining why they are fucking one of my kin,” he said, tightly. No matter how beautiful she was. “Not when she is likely to die at any moment because of the mark upon her hand.”

Silence descended upon the clearing. Bull didn’t look repentant; he just looked around awkwardly. Varric went back to staring into his bowl of food.

Just in time, too, because said woman stumbled back into the clearing, sporting a fresh black eye and a manic grin.

“Another fight with a templar?” Varric asked.

“Nope! Fought a few demons!” she sounded so _cheerful._ “A spot of violence before breakfast is always good.”

“A _spot?”_ Varric snorted.

Her tunic is slashed, her leggings splattered with demon remains. Solas didn’t know whether or not to laugh – she looked unconcerned with their opinions. He chose to hide his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or AKA: He Did Not Get The Hint.
> 
> Also, you can think someone's beautiful and not have romantic inclinations about them. As of yet, Solas has no such inclinations.
> 
> Also, I realized that in most of the game, Solas does not cuss in Common (As far as I know). So, yeah, Solas is a little OOC but it could be argued ALL Solas portrayals are OOC.
> 
> mostly tho i wanted him to swear, so.


	11. Chapter 11

Leilani stepped into the door, blinking at the phylactery.

“Oh. That’s nice. What’s it supposed to with me?”

Cullen stepped forward and curled a hand around it, glancing at Leliana for a moment. Leliana nodded, her lips pressed together.

The door closed just as white-hot pain curled through her. Leilani couldn’t scream as her vision greyed out, her entire body collapsing as she fought to withstand the attack. Her connection to the Fade was _gone, gone, gone,_ an ancient connection that had never, _ever_ been cut like this.

She blinked awake, Cullen hovering above her. Her vision continually flashed spasmodically; she heaved in shuddering breaths.

“You found it,” she croaked, when she could speak.

Leliana’s face appeared, creased in concern. Leilani just drew in breaths, not caring if it was genuine concern or not. Fuck them _both._

“We did.”

Leilani realized something soft was under her head. She sat up, wincing – she jerked away from Cullen as he reached to grab her elbow, shooting him a look of betrayal. It was involuntary; her face had twitched at exactly the wrong moment.

He winced, looking away; Leilani managed to stand, though it was a near thing.

Something crawled down her face, coming from her nose.

Her nose. She wiped the blood from it.

“Please understand, we have to be cautious,” Leliana admitted, looking a little shame-faced. “We did not actually know if this was –“

Leilani snatched it from the table, holding it to herself in a white-knuckled grip.

“So you drag me in here and _nullify my magic?”_ Her voice was too loud, she knew; Cullen was watching her, carefully. “Actually… You know what?” She grinned, tossing the phylactery on the table. “I don’t give a shit.”

The phylactery rolled off the table. Leilani did not care if it broke. She felt _hurt,_ like they’d stabbed her with a knife. _Why?_ Why did she feel like – like heart was snapping in half?

( _I haven’t felt like this since –)_

“You ever do that to me again, _Cullen,_ and I better be fucking _dead.”_ She turned a glare on the man. He flinched. She felt a vicious stab of pleasure at that.

“What are you?” Leliana questioned, her voice sharp.

“An elf,” Leilani said, smirking. “A _female_ elf, to be specific.” Leliana pressed her lips together.

“Don’t try to play with us,” Leliana snapped. “Are you a demon?”

“No,” Leilani said with a shake of her head. “I’m simply Leilani. Or Mirwen. Whichever you want to call me. That’s all I am, all I ever will be.” She tilted her head at Leliana, no smile upon her face.

“Do you know that man? The one seen in the Fade during the time you closed the Breach?”

“I did,” Leilani admitted readily. “I no longer have any association with him, however, and ‘twould be appreciated if you did not insinuate such things. And, before you ask, our relationship was only in the sense that I was his _slave.”_ She shot a nasty glare to Cullen. Cullen winced. “I thought he was dead. Expected it, really.”

She sniffed, then wiped her nose. Blood stained her hand.

“Did you see him die?”

_‘We have to give this to him. It is the only way.’_

A flash, and they were on the ground, all seven of them.

_‘We are free.’_

“I… presumed he was, on account of his body collapsing on the ground.” Leilani shivered. “He’s going to try to summon his former slaves if and when he sees me again. Apart from me… I _know_ they’re dead.”

“The same way you know your former master was dead?” Leliana asked, sharply.

“I could not touch my old master’s body,” Leilani said, her nails digging into her hand. “I buried the others myself.”

Several of them, anyways.

“Very well,” Leliana relented. “Mirwen, we will not do that again.”

_I doubt that very much._

“There is a problem in the Fallow Mire,” Leliana said, shifting a little. “An Avvar encampment –“

“I literally _cannot_ go near an Avvar settlement,” Leilani blurted, her eyes widening. “They will _murder_ me without provocation.”

The two stared at her.

“Well, they requested _you_ by title,” Leliana said. “What exactly did you do -?”

“It’s a very, _very_ long story and one I don’t think is wise to share at this time,” Leilani replied, cutting her off. “I’ll take Solas, Bull, and Cassandra. Have them ready with all the weapons they can carry.”

~:~

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,”_ Leilani chanted, nerves sailing higher. “Fuck, fuck, _fuuuuck,_ I can’t. I can’t.” She stopped at the edge of the Fallow Mire. She could feel the energy around the Mire sinking into her – a hostile energy that would fucking attract a shit ton of enemies. “I can’t go in there and face him,” she squeaked, covering her face. “I may not _die,_ but I will definitely draw attention to us. _Why,_ Leliana?”

She buried her face in her hands, crouching down on the ground and panic-breathing.

“…you are not all right,” Cassandra said, right next to her.

“What gave that away?!”

The fact that she was literally getting soaked because she was actually _scared?_ What if they still wanted to murder her? What if they planned on attacking her _here?_ She’d definitely die. She had very little in the way of weapons because they were so far from Skyhold, and Bull and Cassandra didn’t carry anything but their regular weapons, and –

“We _must_ go!” Cassandra yanked her up, and Leilani felt something _give._

In the space of a second, she yanked herself away, grabbing Cassandra’s sword, and the weapon clashed with –

Her heart started to pound as she looked up at the Avvar shaman.

“Oh,” she said, weakly.


	12. Chapter 12

Amund stared down at the little elf. She stared up at him with wide eyes as he held her back easily; she’d sensed him before he had even arrived.

“You are the Herald,” he said, staring down at her. “And also the Murderess.”

She glared at him.

“A long time has passed since your welcome was revoked,” Amund said. “The Herald is welcome on our grounds.”

The Lady of the Sky hummed around the elder woman, whispering to Amund of her secrets. He must be careful, he knew, elsewise the elder would more than likely be killed.

The Lady needed her.

“Win the challenge,” he said, withdrawing his sword. “Win it in the way of the Avvar.”

“I cannot,” the elf said, moving backwards with the sword. “And if you are a shaman, you know why.”

Amund tilted his head.

“Hmm.” He thought. “Yes, you speak truth. The augurs will not appreciate it if you face him alone. You would be labeled Twice-Murderess.”

“I kill _one_ guy because he had my friend killed and I’m labeled a fucking _murderess,”_ the girl snapped. “I’ve remained away from you. I have kept my distance.” She was frustrated now. “What can I do to tell you I am _not_ what you think I am?”

Amund moved quickly, picking her up and fleeing the place with her companions.

“ _Son of a bitch!”_ She hit him. Ineffectually. She had dropped her sword in surprise. “Let me down, you big oaf!”

“Silence,” he said, flatly – he broke the door of a home with his foot, then let the woman down.

She backed away from him, warily.

“My tribe of Avvar will grant you protection, Elder,” he finally said, “as long as you end the threat of the Hand of Korth.” He tilted his head. “You are the only one who can face him, and if you face him in retribution for your men, you will do yourself a service if you live longer.”

“I doubt I will,” the Herald groused. “Look, I know my reputation is shit, but I don’t really _care._ The Avvar want to kill me, that’s normal. Lots of people want to kill me. I can survive the whole fight, I can survive _another_ hit on my reputation.”

Amund stared at her.

She shifted. “What?”

“The spirits themselves judge your actions separately,” he said, at last. “The Lady of the Sky, whom I follow, will cast aside all judgement for your help in healing her, Ancient.”

She let out a bark of laughter. “Do I _look_ like I give a shit about what your _Lady_ thinks of me?”

“No,” Amund said, crouching down to meet her eyes, following Her directions. She blinked at his closeness. “But the Lady will be ever-so-grateful and promises to grant you a gift in return for your defeat of the Hand of Korth.”

“Uh… Wait, _what?!”_

~:~

Cassandra glanced at the two. The Herald still looked shaky and concerned, but the presence of the Avvar behind her seemed to bolster her confidence.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Mirwen announced, spreading her hands in the rain. “We’re going to go in and challenge the arse who imprisoned those idiots of Leliana’s. You guys are going to sneak down and free them while I keep the bastard busy. Their attention’s going to be on me.”

“Because you are a Murderess?” Cassandra frowned. “Who did you murder?”

The Herald scowled. “He was an important Alamarri figure,” she said. “Despite his people looking down upon him for having his own wife murdered – one of my _friends_ – I _did_ murder him in revenge.” Her face softened. “He killed my friend.”

Then, abruptly, the softness hardened.

“Do not claim title of Murderess whilst facing the Hand of Korth,” cautioned Amund. “It will seek only to enrage him. And more Avvar will seek to kill you.”

“Can you _stop_ calling me that?” Mirwen looked irritated at him.

“Very well, Herald.” She looked even _more_ irritated, but Cassandra simply arched a brow at her and the woman shut up. Mirwen rolled her eyes and waved her hand. “Let’s go kick some Avvar ass, yeah?”

Cassandra managed to catch up with the rapidly-leaving woman.

“Might I ask, Herald, what led to your faith?”

The Herald tripped, staggering for a moment.

“Uh – what?” She glanced over to Cassandra. “What – why didn’t you ask that on the ride _here?”_

Cassandra flushed. “Neither Solas nor the Iron Bull… They are not believers in the Maker,” she said, “nor in the Chantry. You use them as slurs and curses, but you say you are Andrastrian. So, I would be interested in what led to your faith.”

For a moment, the woman said nothing.

“My friend,” she said, “that I told you I killed someone in revenge for. She would not have wanted it, but –“ Mirwen furrowed her brows. “I couldn’t abide by what he’d done. So I hunted him down and murdered him. And in a _fantastically_ horrible twist of events, I was taken by more Tevene slavers and I... Well, that doesn’t matter now. Long story short, my new master allowed my escape when it should not have been possible.” A dark look flitted across her face. “I spread her story amongst my fellow slaves, and it gave hope to the hopeless. I suppose,” she said, drawing herself up. “My faith is only because I knew her.”

“I see,” Cassandra murmured. “Do you believe in the Chantry?”

The Herald snorted. “I have no doubt Andraste herself would be horrified by what the Chantry is now,” she said. “If I was her, I’d come down from the Maker’s side and burn it to the ground.”

“Divine Justinia did what she could,” Cassandra muttered, flushing.

“Yes,” Mirwen said. “I have respect for the Divines. I simply have no respect for what they did with their position. Few did as Justinia did – and when Justinia finally _did_ do something, she was fucking _killed.”_ Rage swept across the woman’s face. “I’m going to destroy that lyrium-addled, self-centered _prick_ and I’m going to make sure he _stays dead._ The Divine did not deserve to die.”

The Herald pulled ahead of her.

~:~

Leilani stepped into the ruins. Thunder cracked above them.

“And who are you?” The giant in the front of her sounded amused. Leilani smiled.

“I am the Herald of Andraste.” She stepped into the arena. “I challenge you, Hand of Korth.”

She saw her companions slip into the back.

Amund nodded at her. This was her cue.

“My name is Leilani Ashalanel’vhen, and I challenge you, Hand of Korth, for your taking of my people.”

The augurs broke out in whispers.

“Murderess,” Hand of Korth hissed.

“By the laws of your own tribesmen, you must accept,” Leilani returned.

Korth didn’t even bother with the words, as Amund had assured her he would. Korth just exploded into motion. Leilani gasped, barely dodging it.

The rain made everything a little harder; Leilani felt something buzzing under her skin, a feeling familiar enough to her that she knew if she gave into it Korth would _immediately_ die.

She didn’t really want to use it, though. She didn’t intend to kill Korth – dishonor him, maybe, but Amund had been stern on the whole ‘try not to murder him’ thing.

But she didn’t have a weapon.

She was beginning to think Amund had tricked her. She ran up the slick steps with Korth behind her.

Leilani wasn’t strong; not like a human. She had the flexibility of a centuries-old Dalish Guard of Mythal’s Temple – she had not gone without stretching for weeks, or days. At most, she’d skip a morning or a night of stretching. She was also one of the few born in Elvhenan with the eyes of a dark-seer – or one who could see in the dark. A result of her father’s… _experiments._

So she could see, in the dark lit by only a few flames, the nightmare of Korth hulking above her. He lifted his mace high. It came down –

_No!_

She would _not_ die here. The Mark on her hand sputtered to life and blew him backwards, the mace hitting his own chest.

Lightning crackled above, hitting the ground. It crackled under Leilani’s skin.

_No._

She shoved it down, burying it deep as she rose to her feet.

“Whatever you call me,” she said, her voice carrying through the rain. “I am not without _honor._ I warned him I was coming for him. Now, I warn _you.”_ She descended the steps. “If you try to come near me and mine again…” For a moment, her vision shifted. “I will _end_ you.”

Thunder crackled above. Lightning slammed around the area.

She walked past the dying Korth without a second glance.


	13. Chapter 13

_Leilani,_

_I will follow this letter._

_Deshanna_

Leilani opened her mouth to question it, and then the door opened.

Arctic wind blew across the room.

“Shit,” Leilani said, turning and pasting a smile on her face. “Keeper Istimaethoriel,” she said, trying to pretend she was happy to see the woman. Leliana and Cassandra were on guard by the woman’s silent and unseen arrival.

“Come,” Deshanna ordered.

Leilani scowled.

“Please,” Deshanna relented.

Leilani huffed, but walked with her.

“What was so important you had to come all the way from Wycome, Keeper?” She spotted the looks from the edge of her vision; the Keeper was an imposing figure.

“Telahn’s death, of course.” Leilani clenched her jaw. “Come. We shall not speak _here,_ in front of the _shem_ stronghold.”

Leilani hesitated; if Deshanna turned violent because of Telahn’s death, Leilani would not have anyone to help her. She followed Deshanna, body trembling.

Deshanna could be fine one moment and be a completely different person in the next. Telahn had been her son – Leilani’s friend, certainly, but one who knew Leilani was different. Much, _much_ different.

She didn’t see Solas outside his cabin; when they reached the outside of Haven, nobody so much as gave them a second look. Not even Bull, who passed her.

Deshanna led her to the treeline, and it was there Leilani stopped her.

“Enough.” Leilani stood her ground. “I’m leaving the clan, Deshanna.”

Deshanna turned to her, her lips pressing together. “I would expect nothing less,” she said, her tone sharp and angry. “I should never have let you into my clan,” Deshanna bit out. “Why did you have to go with my son? Why could you have not left the clan and traveled the world alone? As you had _planned.”_

“Telahn asked me to go,” Leilani replied. Deshanna’s quick temper was legendary; whenever the woman would leave the clan, they would celebrate. Now, though, it looked like Deshanna was getting mad-sickness ever stronger. “I thought I could protect him. I am sorry –“

 _“Sorry?”_ Deshanna shoved her back. “He was my _son!”_

Leilani let her slam her back on the tree.

“He was my friend, too,” Leilani said, quietly.

“All of your _friends_ will die in as equally a violent manner as you will,” Deshanna said, her voice a mere whispered as she withdrew a knife.

Leilani could go nowhere.

“Hey, _kitten!”_

Bull’s loud voice shocked both of them.

“Kitty, where’d you go?”

He was _crooning._ Leilani wondered what the fuck he was actually thinking when Deshanna lashed out, shoving the knife deep into her side.

“ _Fuck!”_ Leilani couldn’t help the scream that escaped her mouth. She shoved Deshanna back. “Did you just fucking _stab_ me? I’m part of your fucking _clan.”_

“You’re no kinsmen to the People,” Deshanna whispered. “Imposter.”

Deshanna vanished.

Leilani gasped, sharp pain sinking in her.

Light footsteps met her ears, but she couldn’t move from her – when did she fall?

“Not again,” she heard, breathed through a pained voice.

~:~

“It is interesting,” Solas admitted, eyeing the Herald’s cabin. “It’s similar to how the elves of old would rest, though this seems to only be when she’s in danger of dying.”

Varric grunted, not in the least bit interested. “Great, that doesn’t help that she needs to be in Val Royeaux in less than a week.”

True; but then, considering the Dalish woman had dragged her out and attempted to kill her –

The door slammed open, Leliana wiping a hand down her face as Mirwen exited without any grace, both of them hurrying up to the Chantry.

“ _Finally,”_ Varric groused, thoroughly sick of all the waiting. He was going on this one, with Bull as Cassandra’s replacement. Varric was thoroughly amused how often the great Herald replaced the Seeker on their journeys. “You packed yet, Chuckles?”

Solas eyed him. “Why do you think I am out here? I knew she would awaken, either today or tomorrow.”

He, too, seemed inordinately eager to leave. Then again, with Vivienne taking command of the mages (of the few that were there) flawlessly – most likely in agreement with the Herald – Solas did not follow the Enchantress’ every order.

Then again, the Enchantress was a fan of ice magic, and she kept sniffing down at Solas’ preferred healing magic it was clear the Enchantress didn’t know how powerful Solas truly was. If he’d known that the Herald was awakening _today_ or _tomorrow,_ Varric would wager that Solas was a _lot_ more powerful than he let on.

Not a few moments later, the Herald herself flung herself off the wall next to Varric’s tent.

“You lot ready and packed up?” she grinned. “Let’s go scare some Chantry bastards shitless!”

Varric picked Bianca up.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thing here: OOC Solas. I think I've stated that Mirwen looks a LOT like Mythal, so... Solas is slightly more defensive of her, and would do things normally out of character for him for that resemblance alone. 
> 
> However, given that Solas knows she'd definitely NOT Mythal - as he thinks she's just a slave-turned-Dalish woman at this point - I have to add that it's... a fine line. What Solas does in this particular chapter is stretching it, I know, but keep in mind the poor guy is way out of his fucking depth right here.
> 
> Also. It amused me at the time to put it in there. So it's there.

“Mages aren’t the sole people responsible!” The Herald had _leapt_ onto the platform, to the shock of Varric and the Revered Mother. “Templars and mages were _equally_ responsible! But one could also say templars pushed them to the fucking edge!”

Varric had to admit she had a point.

“Like _you_ would know what goes on in a Circle,” the Revered Mother said, sneering at her and her _vallaslin._

“I was _in_ Kirkwall’s Circle, you uppity bitch, I know _exactly_ what I’m talking about,” the elf snapped back, jabbing a finger at the Revered Mother. Varric’s brows shot up. “Kirkwall’s Gallows is the opposite of what a Circle _should_ have been. Yes, the mages killed a lot of people – but the templars murder a shit ton of them, too, and effectively murder them by making them Tranquil! They _should_ be allowed to be free from a Circle, should have been allowed to study what they wanted instead of _constantly_ being under the scrutiny of people who would eventually murder them!”

“ _Magic is made to serve man –“_

 _“ -not rule over them,”_ the elf cut in, her eyes flinty. “Andraste would be ashamed, you insipid little twat, at your mishearing of her words. She would _weep_ at the image the Chantry has made of itself.”

Varric heard the gasp that swept through the crowd.

“So says the _Herald of Andraste,”_ a nasal voice announced. “You claim to know her words and attempt to sway the masses.”

All eyes turned towards the newcomer – the Lord Seeker Lucius.

“I do no such thing,” denied Mirwen, narrowing her violet eyes at Lucius. “I seek nothing more than to breathe life back into the words of a lady that was once honored, now little more than an excuse for you to hide your actions.”

“I had no idea Kitten was really into the whole Andrastrian thing,” Bull mused. Varric glanced up at him. The Qunari looked entertained.

“Pretty words for a knife-ear,” someone muttered in front of Varric. “Thought they were as uneducated as they come.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bull said, louder. “Boss totally went stark-raving mad on the batch of evil magic trees in the Dales. Did you know they _sprayed_ blood?”

“Yeah,” Varric replied, as loudly as he could, hearing Lucius start talking again. “I figure the Herald’s got a huge book of demons she’s killed, ya know?”

“Oh, yeah, she does,” Bull laughed. “She gave it to Minaeve the other day. There’s a few pages in it with recipes, you know?”

“Think human’s in it?” _Solas_ inquired. Varric tried not to burst out laughing at the elf’s cool question. Given the way he was glaring at the human, who was staring at them with horror in his eyes, he was totally up with defending the Herald. For whatever reason.

“Nah,” Bull said. “Human’d probably be too chewy.” He rubbed his chin. “I saw _seven_ recipes for Nug, though.”

“I have suggestions for frozen remains, if you would be so kind as to inform the Herald,” Solas said, his voice tight.

“Will do,” Bull said, grinning sharply. “Inquisition could use more fodder.”

Varric moved back as the three humans in front of them shoved their way out of the crowd. They’d probably regret it – Solas more than anything, judging by the look on his face – but it was done. And the humans had looked so _green._

Mirwen was looking at Lucius with tolerant amusement as the Mother ran over to him.

“The templars are here to save us from the scourge of the Inquisition!”

Lord Seeker Lucius sneered and slapped her.

Mirwen’s expression turned from tolerant amusement to flat rage in two seconds, the woman backing up before flipping herself off the dais in a startling display of flexibility.

“Now, now, _Lord Seeker,”_ the elf said, holding a hand for the Mother to catch. It didn’t escape anyone’s notice that only the _elf_ had reacted. “It’s rude to abuse people, especially since she’s part of your precious Chantry.”

“Your mage-loving ways will not be tolerated, and neither will your words that claim to know what Andraste would say, _heretic.”_

Mirwen merely grinned. _“Pala adahl’an,_ Lucius. Whatever you plan on doing will not work, not now. I have no love for the Chantry, but assaulting an old woman? That’s horrible.”

“Why don’t you let the true authority deal with me?” Lucius sneered.

“Oh, I would, but the Divine is dead, if you haven’t forgotten,” the elf snapped back. “Unless you seek to raise _yourself_ as Divine, but that would be _heresy.”_

“All templars have been summoned to Therinfal Redoubt,” he said, stepping up to Mirwen. Mirwen didn’t so much as flinch; Varric was surprised. Even Cullen would’ve moved back. “If you’ve _any_ sense, _Herald,_ you won’t piss us off.”

“I won’t?” She looked so confused.

Varric couldn’t hear what he said, but he saw the confusion melt and naked _rage_ flash through Mirwen’s eyes. She pursed her lips, shook her head and spat in Lucius’ face.

“ _Never again,”_ she said, shoving past him. “Come on, we’re leaving!”

She stalked past the templars.

“What did he say, Boss?” Judging by her rage, she had taken personal offense at it.

“He said, _if you’re good you can become my pet,”_ she snapped. “I’m going to murder him, I _swear it.”_

“ _Pala adahl’an, da’len?”_ Solas inquired, sounding entertained.

She turned, flashing him a sly smirk for a moment before it faded. “It was the only thing I could think of,” she admitted. “I’m a little pissed off.”

“Are you a mage?” Varric blurted. The Herald blinked at him. “You said you were in the Gallows.”

“Oh, yeah.” She snorted. “Don’t worry, I haven’t used magic for a while. Years, actually – not _seriously._ I think I Fade-step every now and then.” She shrugged.

“How did you escape?” Varric asked.

She sighed as they continued walking. An elf dressed in elaborate robes was standing at near the edge of Val Royeaux; at the end of the road they were headed down.

“The night before my Harrowing,” she said, “I was put in a room with two demons. A small pride demon and a rage demon. I… I cleansed them. Pride is simply corrupted knowledge, after all; and rage is easy to come by.”

“You can _purify_ demons with _emotions?”_

Bull sounded incredulous.

“Of course,” Solas said, as though it were obvious. “It has to be the same emotion, but if it does not come with the intent to help, then you are as good as dead.”

“And I’d done it before, so it wasn’t like I was an idiot. I escaped.”

“Herald!”

The elf at the end stepped out.

“Grand Enchanter Fiona,” the Herald bit out.

Fiona looked taken aback. “You – forgive me,” Fiona said, smiling. “’Tis wonderful to see you. Though, last I had heard, my good friend, you were to meet us at the Conclave.”

“Clan Lavellan was intrigued by your stance on magical affairs. Telahn…” The Herald faltered, then soldiered on. “Telahn was killed during the explosion.”

Fiona’s face crumpled.

“Oh… Oh, no.”

“I sent his remains to his mother,” Mirwen explained, “but she will undoubtedly be absolutely furious about the whole… Affair, you were having with him.” Mirwen swallowed. “Forgive me, Fiona. How did you survive?”

Fiona had the grace to look abashed. “The apostates in Witchwood refused to help aide me in ending the templar threat – of which we are all under, my sister. You!” A light came upon her eyes. “You could help the apostates in Witchwood – bring them to our – _my_ – cause.”

“I’ll do my best.” Somehow, Varric doubted she meant it. “What do you want?”

“The Circle members under me have rallied in Redcliffe,” Fiona explained, brightly. “We offer our aid to the Inquisition. I am certain you had a similar offer from Lord Seeker Lucius,” she added, a searching, worried look on her face.

“Don’t worry, we’re not siding with the templars,” Mirwen assured her. “I’ll come see you at Redcliffe.”

Fiona threw her arms around the stiff-backed Herald. “ _Thank you!”_

“You’re very welcome,” the Herald said, an insincere smile on her face that Fiona didn’t see. As soon as Fiona was gone, the Herald’s nostrils flared in anger. “Bitch,” she added, in an undertone.

“So basically you’ve just promised her that you’re going to Redcliffe, right?” Bull sounded bored.

“Ah-ah.” The Herald turned her head, a wicked smile dancing upon her face. “We’re going to the Hinterlands first – then Redcliffe… _then_ Therinfal Redoubt.”

“But we only have enough sway for one,” Solas voiced.

“True,” hummed the woman. “Which is why we’re going to meet with Fiona _quietly_ in Redcliffe while we send a message to Therinfal Redoubt – a missive that will undoubtedly settle their nerves.”

“You’re going to tell them you’re on your way to Therinfal Redoubt,” Varric said, his eyes widening. “And if you convince the apostates in Witchwood, which is _right next to Redcliffe…”_

“Feasibly, yes,” the Herald smirked. “They all come from the Witchwood apostates.”

“Why side with both?” Solas enquired. “You could always –“ His eyes widened as he stared at Mirwen, Mirwen arching a brow at him. “Because you side with neither.”

She pointed both first fingers at him and winked.

“Knew you’d get it.”

“I don’t,” Varric admitted.

Mirwen shrugged and turned around.

“Way I see it,” she called back, “is that they’ve _both_ been fucked over. Lord Seeker Lucius has _clearly_ lost his mind and Fiona’s a manipulative bitch who never loved Telahn, so this is my vengeance. Also, templars really, _really_ need to get off their lyrium addiction, which is _really_ bad and the mages need to understand the templars haven’t been _taught_ any other way.”

“Will the mages be under Vivienne?” Solas questioned, sharply.

“No.” Mirwen shrugged. “I don’t even know if we’re actually going to _make_ it all the way to Therinfal Redoubt, so… Bull? I’d appreciate it if you stalled. Just a wee bit.”

She throws a pointed look at their Ben-Hassreth spy.

Bull snorted.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that. Bet if you asked Leliana she’d make sure my letters don’t leave until you’ve done whatever I’ve written my bosses about.”

She didn’t ask; Varric was grateful. Knowing is… Probably not something he wanted, at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pala adahl'an: Go fuck a forest.
> 
> Credit is to FenxShiral, Project Elvhen.


	15. Chapter 15

Leilani stared at Alexius.

“You’ve enslaved them.”

“ _They_ came to _me,”_ Alexius hummed, leaning forward. Leilani resisted the urge to cover her brand; her skin crawled at the feeling of Alexius’ presence. “Now, let’s talk about what the Inquisition would offer –“

He stopped, as a young man came forth, his eyes wide and –

Leilani moved on instinct, barely managing to hold the young armored man. His eyes interlocked with hers as a parchment slid inside her jacket. Alexius gasped.

“ _Felix!”_

“Sorry, Father,” he gasped. “I felt faint.”

“ _You!”_

Leilani flinched at his bellow – Alexius’ eyes narrowed for a moment as a _slave_ entered the room.

“Yes, Master?”

“Take my son to his quarters. _Apologies,_ dear Herald, but the Inquisition must wait for a day.”

The man slammed out of the tavern. Leilani slipped the parchment out; reading it quickly, she left in a hurry.

The woman dashed to the Chantry, not seeing hide nor hair of Alexius. Opening the door, a big-ass rift met her gaze with that of an oddly familiar-looking young man.

“About _time_ you came to help!” he shouted, looking back at her. Leilani flipped over the railing of the Chantry and landed on an overturned pew, drawing her daggers out. Demons rushed out at her.

Leilani stunned them for a moment, briskly taking several of them out; the rift exploded again, doing something really _fucking weird,_ because she felt disoriented before the man was bodily slamming into her.

“What the –“ she gasped, heart racing.

“Time magic,” the man said, holding out his hand. “It’s making everything rather fucking weird.”

She grasped it. He pulled her up; the duo leapt back into the fray.

It took several small breaks over the course of _hours_ just to close this rift, mostly because – she found out – time magic was fucking with her senses.

“Ugh,” she groaned, flopping onto the ground as the Tevinter mage ungracefully flung himself upon a surprisingly upright pew. _“Faex,_ I thought this would be over in a moment. It usually doesn’t take this long.”

“Holy shit,” Bull said, sounding reverent. “Have you two been fucking this entire time?”

Leilani grimaced. “No, you dumbass, we had to close a fucking Rift. Why weren’t you around?”

“Well, when you didn’t come out of the Chantry, we went to Witchwood,” Bull drawled, frowning at her. “Took us four days to convince ‘em.”

“ _Four days?!”_ The Tevinter mage’s eyes widened. “What month is it?”

“Harvestmere,” Bull said, transferring his gaze to the ‘Vint. “So I’m guessing you _weren’t_ fucking.”

“No, Bull, we’ve only been in here for a few hours,” Leilani said, standing up, weakly. “Time magic,” she said, sighing.

“I did not wish to tamper with the magics holding the Chantry shut,” Solas added, his worry clear. “It could have ended badly.” His eyes assessed Leilani; Leilani arched a brow at him. He pressed his lips together, looking away from her when he met her eyes.

“Dorian!”

Felix interrupted their… _quiet_ celebration; _Dorian_ grinned at Felix.

“I thought you to be dead,” Felix said, worriedly. He looked to Leilani. “I am in your debt, Inquisitor.”

Leilani sighed and shook her head.

“Nah,” she drawled, taking a step and blinking as they folded under her. “ _Faex,”_ she muttered, Tevene slipping out of her mouth again – probably because Dorian and Felix were both Tevene. “Bull.” She looked up at the hulking Qunari. “I can’t move,” she winced. He grinned and moved, picking her up and putting her on his neck like she was a _da’len._

Varric snorted. “So what are we doing now?”

Felix cleared his throat.

“You could go to the arl’s home,” he suggested, meekly. “My father remains there – and he sent an invitation the day of you leaving,” he added to Leilani. “He presumed you would be back at your base.”

“We _could_ say that we had to turn around immediately,” Varric piped up. “Not like he – or anyone outside the Inquisition – knows _exactly_ where the Inquisition’s forces are.”

“True,” Leilani conceded. “Very well, _Felix.”_ She folded her arms under her chest. “You’re going to get Dorian and I fresh clothes that look _good_ and aren’t slave’s clothing.”

Felix nodded. “Okay,” he said.

“ _Very_ commanding,” Dorian commented, getting up after a moment. “Used to commanding others?”

Leilani shot back an answer without thinking. “No, just not wanting you to think I’d be easy to cart back up to Tevinter. Had enough of the home country – really rather not go back.”

Silence. Felix’s eyes bulged. Dorian looked taken aback for a moment.

“Ah, a fellow ‘Vint, hmm?”

Leilani bared her teeth in a facsimile of a smile. “House Thalrassian, a while ago.”

Dorian’s brows flew up.

“I see. Mother never mentioned you.”

Leilani felt the blood drain from her face.

“No,” she said, faintly. “Oh, _filius canis!”_ (Son of a _bitch!_ )

She was –

Oh, _Maker’s breath._

She was going to be _sick._

~:~

“I know about the Elder One,” she said, to Alexius’ face. Felix had managed to scrounge up some battle-wear from the arl and his wife, though the whereabouts of said arl and wife were suspicious, to say the least. “What should I tell you but that I know he is no god?”

Alexius sneered. “You are but a child in the footsteps of gods,” he said, tossing something at her. She caught it – and her gasp was swallowed up by the feeling of being submerged in water.

A hand hauled her up; she coughed violently. Still half-standing in water, she blinked and wiped her mouth, managing a hoarse ‘thank you’ to the two Tevene men.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said, looking apologetic. “I truly did not think he would kill you.”

“Do not worry about it,” Dorian dismissed. “We shall simply have to find a way to unlock the door from the –“

Leilani pushed the door.

“…inside,” Dorian finished, lamely.

“Probably didn’t think we’d appear here,” she said, going for cheerful and not _oh shit my however-many-greats-grandson is alive and standing right next to me because I KNOW the Lady of House Thalrassian died not long after I left and not long enough to bear another child because she was barren_ kind of panic. “Where are we?”

“No idea,” Dorian admitted. “Felix?”

“No idea,” the other echoed. “This doesn’t look like the Redcliffe dungeons.”

They crept out, hearing voices above them.

“ – fucking Corypheus was sighted,” an echo came from above. Leilani held her breath.

“We must still launch an attack,” a new voice pressed. “Whatever happens from here will decide our fate.”

Leilani gestured for Dorian to stay back. Leilani took a deep breath and kicked open the door fully, running with a wild scream and –

The human moved aside. Leilani yelped as she tripped on – for fuck’s sake, was that a damn _nug?_

She managed to slam only her elbows upon the table, catching herself from hitting it face-first.

“ _Maker’s breath!”_

“ _Herald!”_

“ _What?!”_ she raised her teary eyes to shout at the person who’d shouted her name. “ _What_ could be more pressing than that of the pain currently slamming into my body, Cullen, _what_ –“

Her entire body went ridged. Because – Because outside, the whole sky was _green._

“Oh my fucking Maker,” she said, distantly. “We’ve time-traveled.”

“What, now?” She heard, from Dorian behind her. “What the fuck?”

“Exactly,” she found herself replying. “Time travel. Fade Breach. We’re all fucked.” She then blinked around the table. “Oh… Hello, darling Alistair.” Then she turned to the human she’d almost attacked – blinked at his ridiculous Orlesian finery and smirked. “You’re Orlesian. With _that_ stance, I’d presume Orlesian chevalier… Leader, perhaps, so you _must_ be Duke Gaspard de Chalons.”

The chevalier narrowed his eyes at her.

“And you are?” he inquired, stiffly.

Leilani gave him a smirk.

“Mirwen Ashalanel’ven,” she said, waving her Marked hand. “Herald of Andraste.”

She glanced around.

“So what _exactly_ happened, and how long have I been gone?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...before you ask, I don't know. I LITERALLY came up with that, kinda spur-of-the-moment kind of thing because... 
> 
> ...I really don't know, and I like the idea of Leilani becoming overprotective of Dorian because Dorian and Cole will be the designated Cinnamon rolls of the story.
> 
> because if you've read any chapters of It's Not Lost Until You Give Up with Cole in it, he is a cinnamon roll and adorable and Must Be Protected, and Dorian is adorable and I don't know if Leilani and Dorian would get along much otherwise.
> 
> Also, all Latin is google-searched, and more than likely swear words because Leilani likes swearing in Old Tevene and I only know of one swear word in Old Tevene that's canon, and yeah, she'll use it, but interchangeably with Elvhen.
> 
> If you have ANY questions, please do review. :D Any flames will, as usual, be used as a power-up for any character of my choice! (:


	16. Chapter 16

Dorian listened with only half an ear as he and Felix stood with the Herald. The elven woman was taking it all in stride when he was still reeling from the whole ordeal.

“Father did all of this?” he heard Felix murmur, anger coating his friend’s voice.

“No,” Dorian denied. “I believe it was the Elder One.”

“- the _fuck_ is _Corypheus?!”_ the Herald’s shout brought their attention back to the table.

“He’s the one who destroyed the Conclave,” the blonde templar said, furrowing his brows.

“That’s _not_ his real name,” the elf spat, her face twisting in horrified amusement. “It’s pretentious, certainly, and speaks to his willingness to become a god, but that _isn’t_ who he was.”

“And _you_ would know all about that?” The Orlesian sneered.

The elf stared at the Orlesian.

“I definitely know more than _you,”_ she said, sweetly.

Dorian placed a hand over his face, hiding the smirk.

“You’ve not been around for a year,” came the cold reply. “What could _you_ possibly contribute?”

The Herald continued smiling at him.

“Loads,” she said, her voice pleasant. “Such as restraint, not kicking your fucking teeth in.”

She said it with such calm politeness that it made Alistair snicker as it sank in.

“Anyway,” the Herald said, shaking her head. “If we get the amulet that sent us here, we can make it send us back, I believe.”

“Yes, and do _what,_ exactly, Herald? Fail at negotiating with Gereon Alexius?” The Orlesian’s voice was haughty.

“Well, considering you and your kin _never_ negotiate at anything… I’d do better than _you.”_

“This _really_ isn’t helping,” Cullen said, loudly. “Herald, inside the arl’s house… We believe Varric, Solas, and the Iron Bull yet live. Leliana went several days ago, to see if she could reason with Gereon, but she has not returned.”

The elf hummed. “Well… I can rescue ‘em.”

“I doubt that,” the Orlesian said. “Nobody who has gone –“

“How long to get to Redcliffe?” Cullen interrupted the Orlesian, his eyes fixed upon the Herald.

“Not long, as it’s just the three of us… And depending where we’re even _at,”_ the Herald chirped.

“An ancient fortress. Whispers called it ‘Skyhold’.”

And just like that, the woman’s face slackened with shock. And – and _fear._

“ _S-skyhold?”_

~:~

Leilani didn’t mean to _react_ like that, but – well, it was no fucking _wonder_ she felt _off_ here. She’d felt it, a cold energy sliding constantly up her back, like eyes glaring at the back of her head.

And it wasn’t the damn Orlesian man; it was – it was the castle itself. She had only heard of this ancient fortress, never daring to step foot here – not like the ill-fated groups of many that had come before. Skyhold was ancient and magical and the _very spot where the Fade had been ripped from her._ It had been ages old by the time of her birth; magic had built this. Magic and slaves for a man that had not had them.

Very few of the slaves she knew – or had known – had been alive then. Probably not alive now, considering, well. Y’know. Everyone Leilani had known then was dead now because of the Quickening. So.

“Corypheus has not found us here,” Cullen admitted. He looked like hell. “I realize it has some sort of significance to your people, but –“

“It doesn’t _matter,”_ Leilani snapped out. “Dorian, Felix – are you up for riding?”

“Yes,” Felix said, nodding as Dorian looked at him. Dorian nodded at her reassuringly.

“You have no idea –“ started Cullen, only to be silenced by Leilani’s withering glare.

“I know _exactly_ where Redcliffe would be from here,” she said, her voice chilled. He nodded at her.

“Very well,” he allowed.

“I suppose if we all die it’ll be a moot point, either way,” she added, rather dryly.

When they leave, several hours later in the waning daylight, she does not look back – not until they are well-away from it.

~:~

Felix felt sick.

It was harder on him than usual; usually, he was not riding this hard. The darkspawn taint crawled inside of him, making him cough during the third day of their journey.

“Herald,” Dorian said, immediately, “we must halt. Felix’s illness –“

He did not need to say anything more. Felix coughed horribly, blood coming from his mouth.

 _I am going to die,_ he thought, feeling the weakness in his chest.

“What illness does he have?”

“Blight-sickness.”

Felix coughed, looking away from her. She scowled, staring at him.

“Damn it,” she hissed. “Do you trust me?”

Felix nodded. He coughed again. He had no choice.

“Then trust what I do is not lightly,” she warned him.


	17. Chapter 17

There was one, and only one, way to heal the blight-sickness; a way that she had helped few before. A spirit could heal him – most were corrupted long before they entered this world, now; but now, with the Fade _so very close,_ she could maybe do it here. While in the Anderfels, she’d been _so close_ to Tevinter that it needn’t have mattered.

She directed Dorian to put up the tent, her teeth worrying her lip.

“What are you going to do?” Dorian looked worried.

“I know we don’t know each other well, Dorian,” she said, her voice quiet, the very air around them still. “But there is only _one_ certain way to heal blight-sickness. A spirit can possess and heal –“

Dorian’s face grew dark. “You’re going to summon a _spirit_ to possess my friend?”

She could feel it in her bones, the way he started to call up fire – and she placed a hand on his. Not entwining them – just touching his hand.

In Elvhenan, family called to family. Blood sang to blood in a way nothing else would; she knew in Tevinter, this would be nothing more than a buzzing under the skin, as it had been lost by Andraste’s time. In Elvhenan, her mother being anywhere _near_ Leilani, Leilani could feel her mother’s ancient magic singing through her own veins.

She could feel Dorian stare at her, the blood-song and Fade-song coming together in a faint melody.

“Trust me,” she said, meeting his slackened gaze. “I would not do this if it didn’t mean a great deal to _you.”_

Human or not, he’d still felt the blood-song. Family was important to everyone in Leilani’s time, and while Leilani had only the opportunity to hear snatches of the son-laden family of Thalrassian and not known that there had at last been a _daughter_ of that line… He was still _blood,_ and the mere fact he could feel it was enough for her.

“What is that?” He looked at his palm, then looked at her.

“I’ll tell you when I’m finished,” she said.

He nodded at her.

She slipped inside the tent. Sitting on her feet, she allowed her eyes to drift shut, placing her hands upon his temple as she called to the Fade.

The Fade responded.

~:~

Lightning flashed above them, a storm gathering as the Fade sang in this clearing. Dorian kept his guard up, his mind still reeling from what the Herald had – had done.

Something inside of him _recognized_ Leilani – not _magic,_ exactly, but it _was._ It felt like the Fade in his veins, and his mind hummed with it. His own power – fire – did not come to him as he attempted to summon it; the shine of knowledge of something he could not name had left him speechless.

Long hours passed; when the tent opened and she crawled out, she looked truly awful.

“He’s going to live,” she said, right before passing out right there on the ground.

Felix awakens before she does; crawling out and staring at her form – Dorian had put her on his jacket.

Felix looked _far_ better. Healthier.

“What did she put inside you?”

“A spirit,” Felix answered, smiling. “Of… Of compassion, I think. Or…” He shrugged. “I have no idea. Apparently, it’s healing me in response to her call.”

The elf just slumbered on. Her breaths came evenly.

“How?” Dorian questioned.

Felix coughed and shrugged.

“He… It… She… The _spirit,”_ Felix corrected, “could not refuse her call.”

“Hmm.” Dorian frowned in worry.

“Or did not want to,” Felix murmured. “She – it’s _definitely_ a _she_ – says it wouldn’t be nice.”

“ _That_ is going to be unsettling,” Dorian muttered. The Herald shifted.

~:~

Leilani woke up from her dream, hearing Dorian and Felix talk. She rolled over, spotting the two looking over at her.

“Hi,” she grunted, moving off the coat someone had so thoughtfully provided for her. “Let’s go. We’ve got a long ride ahead of us.”

“Wait,” Dorian said, moving swiftly. “I realize you’re –“ He sighed. “What, if I might ask, did you _do_ to me?”

Leilani groaned.

“Okay, I will fucking _tell_ you,” she snapped, a pulsing ache starting to pound in her head. “I was the slave of Magister Thelonius Thalrassian. My son…” She grimaced. “Fucking _shit,_ they named him Decius. _Ugh.”_ She shuddered, but soldiered on. “My son was the bastard son of Thelonius, due to the fact his wife was barren.”

Dorian stared at her.

“ _What?”_

“Oh, _come on!”_ She gestured to her hand. “Blood calls to blood, _‘Vint._ I’m pretty damn sure that it worked as well as I thought. I’m your immortal elvhen grandmother. Nice to meet you. Now let’s go save this shitty world we live in, yes?”

“I…”

Even Felix looked skeptical.

“And _you._ Ask that lady spirit you have in you.” She paused. “She is an aspect of Healing, yes?”

“ _Healing!”_ Felix looked happy. “Yes. She is. _Thank you.”_

“No problem,” she said, standing. “And Dorian, if you weren’t related to me in any way… Why did you feel the Fade-blood-song?”

She arched a brow.

“I… will believe you, for now,” Dorian said, folding his arms.

“Eh. Makes no difference to me,” Leilani shrugged. She worried, though; because as Dorian said that, there was a stab of something in her heart.

(It can’t be hurt. _I don’t care._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Leilani is an emotionally fragile elf when it comes to family and she's a lying liar who lies to herself.


	18. Chapter 18

They crept through the dungeons, once more soaked in water. This one, however, had far more corpses. Felix’s nose curled up as he followed the two.

For once in his life, he felt _no_ pain as Healing did her job. Healing did nothing else as they crept through the future version of the arl’s castle.

Mirwen, as she’d finally introduced herself, rummaged through all sorts of chests.

“I won’t get the chance to later,” was her casual response to Dorian’s angry hiss of _do you have to do that now._ She had strapped _so_ many knives to herself it was nearly insane. It _was_ a wonder how the fuck the elf could move with so much strapped to herself, but then Felix reminded himself ‘immortal elf’.

They paused, however, when they heard movement.

“Red templars,” Mirwen said, before frowning. “Wait.” She cocked her head and her eyes widened, shock coming upon her face as she gestured frantically to move.

Far too late, though.

The Elder One moved through the hallway, floating and talking to Felix’s father. He held his breath, closing his eyes –

Their voices faded.

“Morons,” Mirwen grumbled, but there was relief in her voice. “You guys stay here. I’ll create a distraction, meet me in the courtyard when you get the amulet.”

“What kind of distraction?” Felix hissed.

“I’ve got the keys to the dungeon,” Mirwen chirped. “I’m going to free those idiots stuck down there.”

~:~

“I must be either dead or crazy,” Leilani heard as she stepped in front of the Iron Bull’s cage.

“I make you crazy, do I?”

“ _Is that the Inquisitor I hear?”_

Fiona sounded like she was in pain. Glancing over, the small amount of food that they’d found that _hadn’t_ rotted was about to make a reappearance.

“Oh, Maker,” she said, faintly. “You lot have _lyrium_ growing out of you.”

“Yeah,” Bull said. “Hurts like a bitch.” He gave her a weak smile. “Solas is beyond that door.” He moved his head.

Leilani swallowed down her bile.

“I’ve got a plan,” she said, promising him and unlocking his cage. He stared at her. “I’m meeting Dorian and Felix in the courtyard. We have to make a distraction for them,” she explained, grinning. It hurt.

(why does seeing him like this hurt? It feels like my heart is being punched.)

Bull grinned and rammed the door.

“Bull -!”

He grinned, but it wasn’t his usual. It was maniacal and desperate.

“You’ll outlive us all,” he said. “Corypheus told us. So I’m gonna have to trust your shit plans.”

She swallowed, ignored Fiona’s pitiful cries for help, and walked through the door.

Varric looked better than Bull did, though not by much – the red lyrium had crawled _over_ him, instead of obviously coming from within. Solas… The only thing different from his usual look was the look of – of _hunger_ that he had as he looked over her. Intense – Intense _something._

“ _Lethallan.”_

Despite his look, he remained where he was. Leilani unlocked Varric’s cell first, hesitating at Solas’.

“Daughter of the dragon,” Solas _purred,_ something dancing in his eyes. “Are you afraid of a lone wolf?”

“ _Should_ I be?” Leilani snarked, not allowing her fear to show even as she unlocked it and allowed him to walk out. He bent as he passed her ear, whispering something that made her glad that she was not pale as him; her caramel skin did not allow for a flush to be seen.

_“Yes, you should.”_

She stayed rooted there for a moment, then cleared her mind and kicked the door to the stairs open.

“Let’s go rescue the spy lady,” Leilani made herself say with cheer.

~”~

Leliana was a _mess._ She looked as though someone drained all the vitality out of her.

“You may attempt to fix this, but it is the nightmare we have suffered,” she bit out, glaring at Leilani. “You cannot throw our suffering away simply because you wish it.”

“True, true,” Leilani said, patting Leliana. “But, my dear, I’m the immortal elf and I’ve lived longer than, like, maybe the entire Inquisition as a whole. I’ve been in battles. I will continue to exist long after you’re gone – and if you don’t die here, I will _still_ continue to exist long after you’re gone.”

Leliana glared at her. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

“I don’t give a _fuck_ what it was supposed to do. I was being _nice,_ okay?” Leilani scowled. “Not _my_ fault you can’t appreciate shit.”

She huffed and moved away from the archer, ending up next to Bull, Varric, and Solas.

Solas was smirking at her. That red tint to his eyes unsettled her as he silently paced, awaiting Leliana.

“So, what are we going to do?” Leliana frowned at her.

“You lot are going to escape,” Leilani said, “while I create a distraction. I –“

Solas laughed, low and – well, it was actually kind of hot, because Leilani did not respond properly to most things nowadays. “If you think we’re going to turn tail and run, little dragon, you’re _very_ wrong.”

“Leliana, then,” Leilani decided, turning away and trying not to alert Solas she actually found this situation _very_ much kind of sexy, apparently. Bull’s low laugh did _not_ help. Bastard knew _exactly_ what Solas was doing to her. “If you three are going to help me distract my old master, then –“

“Corypheus, right?” Varric interrupted.

_If they keep interrupting me, I’m going to **stab** one of them._

“Yes, _Corypheus,”_ she groaned. “He wants me dead. Let’s see if we can’t murder his ass right here and now.”

“He said something.” Varric’s gaze skittered away and then back again. “He said you’re the reason for the world as we know it.”

“I mean… _technically,_ I suppose, but _indirectly,”_ Leilani admitted.

“ _What_ does that mean with you?” Leliana demanded, hot anger simmering in her eyes.

“It means,” Leilani forced out, “that I was his fucking slave, and I made the whole fucking ritual for the Magister’s Sidereal up and it should have just straight-up _killed_ the damn bastard, okay? He was a horrible master, a horrible person, and he _kept killing slaves._ Him and the other fucking members of the Sidereal. So, I figured, before he killed me and my fellow slaves, I’d end it. I’d kill him and the other members. So in desperation, I _made up a ritual_ that would allow him entrance into the Fade and he ‘found’ it, _exactly_ where I wanted him to. He beat me half to death and, to my _eternal delight,_ he used the shit ritual and I thought he _died.”_

The silence echoed.

“Oh.” Leliana frowned. “Would it not have been easier to just murder him in his sleep?”

“Oh, it _would_ have been, if several _other_ slaves hadn’t tried that and it led to a permanent shield on his fucking door. Also, no poison, I accidentally killed a slave who was his food-tester.” Leilani peeked up to see Leliana blinking.

“I see.” Leilani honestly doubted it. “With your limited resources and your fear of him, I suppose your lack of inventiveness could be forgiven.”

Leilani couldn’t help it.

“I wasn’t _afraid_ of the bastard,” she scoffed. Not _entirely_ true, but… “I think it’s fair to say that I simply hated him more than any other master because he was similar to my first master. _She_ sent people to their deaths because it was convenient. Or she was bored. At least with him, he flew into uncontrollable rages and that was _easier.”_ Easier to predict, too. “Now, I think we have to go save Dorian and Felix from death, so let’s go do it!”

She practically fled down the hallway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reference her past because much later will we have flashbacks - oooh *shivers in delight* there is SO. MUCH. ANGST.
> 
> In case you don't realize it. I live for the angst.


	19. Chapter 19

Dorian and Felix stared at the amulet on the ground, hidden from view.

“Should be easy to repair?” Felix looked unsure.

“I’ve seen this before,” Dorian mused, stroking his mustache. “Right after the Conclave exploded, in Alexius’ drawings you let me… _borrow._ Let me think.”

Like his mother, Dorian had a strong memory; he could not recall certain things with perfect clarity like his grandfather, but he _could_ remember so much that it sometimes got lost in the maelstrom of memories.

He found it, sifting through his memories of the designs Alexius had snuck him – and he nodded to himself, looking at the amulet with fresh eyes.

“It needs lots of magical power, but if I just –“

He took out a knife and made a marking on it, then nodded to him.

“You done yet?”

Both Tevinter men yelped and jumped; Mirwen stood above them, her face troubled as her companions followed her.

“Yeah. We – we’re done,” Dorian gasped. “Amulet just needs more time to charge. Apparently we drained it of whatever power was stored in there.”

Mirwen opened her mouth –

“ _Intruders!”_

“Finally,” she said, a smile curling her mouth. “It’s like Corypheus doesn’t have good help! There was nobody in the castle!” She withdrew one of her blades.

“Yes… We’ll need to make our way to the hall. We saw a rift, and maybe being near it will bleed into this.”

Dorian waved the amulet around.

The Herald shrugged. “Okay.”

“Are you affected by _anything?”_ Dorian asked after a moment.

“At this point, I’m fairly certain I have seen _everything_ the world has to offer at this time. Time travel’s not exactly a novelty anyway. It’s always been possible, just less possible with the Veil in the sky,” she answered, shooting him a grin. “Personally it _is_ new to have it done _to_ me, but my father did it once when I was like three.”

Dorian blinked. “Your… _father.”_

“Yeah, apparently he didn’t like what he saw so I became a slave.” She smiled at him. The bald companion he had no idea the name of just stared at her, the red in his gaze dim for the moment.

She didn’t seem to notice. Probably because she wasn’t looking.

Also, there were lyrium beings attacking them, so that may have affected her ability to see.

~:~

Felix coughed, out of habit. Since Healing had been summoned into him, he’d felt less ill and way stronger than before; not entirely good, but – _better._

“We have no time to waste,” Mirwen said, sharply. “How long until the amulet is – _ouch!_ Solas, _what the fuck?”_

The bald elf – Solas – grasped her arm painfully tight. Not the marked arm; her other arm. He was digging a finger into her arm, muttering something under his breath. Then he looked up at Mirwen.

“Blood calls to blood,” he mused. “Old blood to old blood.”

“Okay, that red lyrium stuff makes you slightly creepy,” Mirwen said, extricating her arm. “Try to be less creepy, yes?”

Felix glanced over at Dorian. “Dorian! Have you got the amulet working?”

“Few more moments!”

“Okay! Herald! We –“

“The Elder One approaches!” the giant Qunari ran into the room. “Solas, do that weird thing – okay, _now_ is not the time to be into the Herald!”

“For fuck’s _sake,_ Solas!” Mirwen shoved the elf back. “We’re in the _middle of battle!”_

Felix had not seen what the bald elf had done, but the elf was tilting his head and smirking. The red burned in his eyes. Mirwen was flushed, but she collected herself. Dorian looked extremely confused.

“What just happened?” Felix asked, loudly.

Mirwen coughed. “Nothing!” she squeaked.


	20. Chapter 20

Leilani tried not to touch her ear, which Solas had _bitten._ Maker’s breath, they were in the middle of _battle_ and the lyrium must have _truly_ addled his brain if he was trying to seduce her in the _middle of the fight with lyrium soldiers._

Well, actually, if he was trying to seduce her at _all._ Leilani was _flattered,_ certainly; but now was not the time. At all.

“All right,” Leilani said, hearing thuds. “Are you ready _now?”_

“Yes! We cannot move, which means when they come through…”

“We’ll stall ‘em, Boss,” Bull winked. “’Sides, you leaving means this world might cease to be.” He smiled down at her. “If it makes ya feel any better, you look _great_ for being, like, a thousand years old.”

Leilani forced a smile on her face. “Great, Bull. _Great._ I get to watch another friend die. Fucking _awesome._ Your last words to me are ‘you look great for being an over a thousand years old’. Thanks for the compliment.”

“Now is _not_ the time to continue arguing,” Solas murmured, his voice clear. “ _Lethallan,_ go and make this right.”

Leilani blinked at him.

“Okay,” she said.

The door slammed open.

“Don’t move –“ Dorian called out, a bright light exploding around them just as Leilani felt a searing pain on her side.

The sound of ringing fled her just as she collapsed to the ground, aftershocks of horrible pain sliding through her. Leilani twisted, trying to get to the brand – it _hurt,_ Maker it was worse than the Mark’s pain. The Mark ebbed; this just built and –

Shouts flooded over Leilani just as a cooling hand placed itself upon her side, directly above the brand.

“Leave her alone –“

“Felix, he’s _helping_ her –“

“He was just _dying_ – how did he _survive?”_

“I don’t know!”

“Will you two just _shut up?”_ Leilani couldn’t help her shout, her vision clearing. “Your bickering is giving me a fucking _headache!”_

The hand withdrew.

“ _Lethallan.”_

The haze cleared from her vision. Solas hovered over her – clear eyes, calm features… And wasn’t _that_ the most delicious –

 _No, no, NO. Leilani, get your head out of the clouds because for once sex is NOT being offered to a very attractive male who is wearing a very attractive set of armor…_ Leilani focused.

“I…”

They were outside, under a blue sky. Birds were atwitter.

Yet… Yet…

_Yet…_

For the first time in over a thousand years, she seemed to be able to _breathe._ Instead of feeling like she pushed against a thick blanket and was only able to draw in air that seeped through the holes, the elf seemed to breath cleanly – without the sense of the… Well, _blanket._ The Veil being the blanket, and the Veil being gone right now.

“It’s not possible,” she said, scrambling up as she instinctively reached out for the Fade. Solas moved back – watching her. “ _How?_ When? _How?!”_

She turned to Solas, a smile touching her lips. There was no smile upon his.

“ _Lethallan,”_ he said, his eyes raking over her face pensively. “You must return from the time you came.”

Leilani’s smile faded. “Solas… What –“

He _shushed_ her, in front of her in an instant and placing a finger on her lips.

“You will know soon enough, I expect.”

“Herald, the amulet –“

Solas shoved her to the side.

In that brutal second, his face closed, she knew what was to come.

She stood, completely disoriented, in front of Alexius. Dorian looked pinched and suddenly ill as new voices echoed; Felix’s appearance shocked his father _badly,_ and Leilani –

Leilani was seeing spots, this time because her side was twinging in the aftershocks and whatever the fuck had just happened with a Solas in a badass armor and the _Veil had been gone_ and now it was _back_ and she _struggled_ with the shock of being shoved through time and the Veil.

“Boss,” Bull said, “you don’t look so good.”

She realized she wasn’t breathing.

“Forgot I needed to breath,” she admitted. She could feel her eyes stinging as Alexius ranted about…

Eh, fuck it. Leilani hadn’t actually been paying attention until Alexius attempted to get away, and Leilani _lunged._

“You _fucker!”_ She punched him in the face. “You _despicable_ piece of _shit_! _Why experiment with time magic? Huh?_ Do you _know_ the consequences of such a foolish act? _No,_ because _just_ like Corypheus, the sadistic bastard you _serve,_ you seek to use it for your own selfish desires! This does _not_ help Tevinter in _any way!”_

She was shaking him at the end, shaking him by the collar of his tunic. He stared at her with wide eyes – as though he did not dare believe her audacity.

“Well, _this_ is not a scene I ever actually thought I’d see,” remarked –

“You _must_ be fucking joking,” Leilani snarled, tearing her eyes away and meeting the eyes of Alistair. “The _fuck_ are _you_ doing here?”

On one of Leilani’s excursions to the Arbor Wilds ten years ago in an effort to distance herself from Lavellan, she’d met him. He was weird, and even claimed to be the lover of a Warden. And king of Ferelden, but _come on._ Unless the universe had a sense of humor, he was no king.

“Oh… Leilani.” The man shifted. He looked older. Made sense. “You, ah, look well.”

“ _This_ is the woman you slept with in the Wilds?” The woman in Grey Warden armor – a Dalish elf as well, incidentally – looked at Leilani up and down. An approving smirk touched her lips.

“Your Majesty!” In her slack grip, Alexius was pale.

“…oh my fucking Maker, you _weren’t_ lying about being King of Ferelden?!” Leilani felt like an idiot after saying that. “And why do you have a Grey Warden at your side? Thought you lot kept to killing darkspawn.”

“How is it you know of the king of Ferelden, but don’t know of _The_ Warden?” Varric looked at her like she was insane.

Which, quite possibly, she might be.

“There are lots of Wardens,” Leilani said, blinking. “What’s she done that’s so special?”

“Killed the last archdemon and stopped the Fifth Blight,” Varric and Alistair said in sync.

“Everyone knows of the Warden,” Alexius said. “You would be an idiot not to.”

Leilani froze and turned her head to him.

“You asked for it,” she growled, lifting her hand and slamming it downwards.

He screamed, high-pitched and girlish.

“Don’t _call me an idiot_ when you’re the _filius canis_ who fucked around with _time magic!”_ She released him, grief pouring through her. She moved shakily away from him as… Ferelden templars? Maybe? Surrounded the magister.

Leilani swallowed as Alistair marched up to her.

“It _is_ lovely to see you,” he said, hesitating. Ten years was a while, after all. Leilani just smiled at him shakily.

“It is lovely to see you, too.” She paused for a moment. “I think I’m going to go now.” She gestured vaguely away, past Alistair. He nodded.

“Alright – but please, dear.” He placed a hand on her arm. “If you need help…”

He let the sentence dangle.

“Thanks,” Leilani said, tossing a skeptical brow at the Warden, whose face was blank. “I don’t think your Warden would be too happy if I stopped by.”

She patted his muscles and left.

“Okay, just out of curiosity,” Varric said, loudly, “how many renowned figures have you slept with in the past decade?”

Leilani snorted. “I slept with Alistair _once,_ and it was mostly because I made the mistake of eating some mushrooms he was picking. We… We both were out of our right minds.” She forced a smile past the lump in her throat.

“…you were in Wycome a year ago, weren’t you?”

Varric sounded suspicious.

“Yeah, why?”

“Know anyone named Hawke?”

Leilani blinked. “Oh… yeah.” She grinned, the memory still sharp. Hawke and Fenris had been awkward around her until she’d, ahem, _accidentally_ kissed Fenris in front of Hawke. Hawke had _clearly_ been jealous – her face had gone from friendly to thunderous. Her smile vanished immediately afterwards. “Wait, _you_ know Hawke?”

Varric shook in his saddle, laughing.

“I _can’t believe_ you’ve slept with two of the most important people in living history and didn’t know it,” Varric chortled.

Leilani sniffed. “ _Everyone_ has needs, Varric. _Everyone._ And, I dunno. I guess I was in the right place at the right time.”

“ _Suspicious_ timing,” Bull muttered.

~:~

Solas heard someone crying when he left his tent later that night, unable to sleep. He followed the sounds, to see it was – Mirwen.

A branch cracked, and her quiet weeping stopped as she tensed, sniffling.

“Apologies, _lethallan.”_ He stepped into her sight. In the dark, he could not see her well enough. She was wiping her face. “Is there something wrong?”

“I –“ Mirwen’s voice cracked. “Solas, we didn’t travel just once,” she admitted, her voice small. “We traveled twice, and you were there, and the Veil – the Veil was _gone._ And then – and then the Veil was _back,_ and it feels like –“

She didn’t need to say it.

“I understand,” he murmured.

“How _could_ you?” she sniffled. “It – it _sang_ through me, I felt it through me and I _felt_ the Fade and I felt _free,_ and then you shoved me _back_ and I don’t understand _why,_ because I _know_ it hurts and now it hurts _worse_ because –“

He could not answer her. Instead, all he did was draw her into his embrace.

She shuddered against him.

“If I did that, I must have a good reason,” he murmured to her.

She snorted weakly.

“Maybe the red lyrium addled your brain worse,” she said.

He blinked and looked down at her.

“Red lyrium?” he wondered.

“Yeah, it screws with your head. Hawke mentioned it.” She shifted, awkwardly. He released her, noticing angry red scratches on her arm. “You… scratched at my arm,” she sniffled, “and, er, did other weird things. And said strange things.”

“I see.” Solas made a mental note to stay away from red lyrium. “Are you certain you wish to go to Therinfal Redoubt from here? The Tevinters –“

“Dorian and Felix are going with the Witchwood apostates.” She shifted. “Leliana said the nobles will meet us at Therinfal. I… I think they deserve a chance to prove everyone wrong, Solas.”

“I am with you here, _lethallan._ Everyone deserves another chance.” Solas only said those words to soothe her; they seemed to work.

They remained out there, watching the night bleed into day.


	21. Chapter 21

“It is tradition,” Ser Barris said, swallowing. “If you do not wish to, I understand.”

“We do not have time for –“ one of the Orlesians Vivienne had gotten to come started, only to be interrupted by Leilani.

“I will do it.”

Leilani turned to the flags.

Andraste went up first; the Orlesians muttered amongst themselves.

The flag of the people went up next. Leilani remained silent as she held her head up – she turned to Ser Barris when she was done; the templar flag remained down.

“Will you explain your choices?” Ser Barris asked, the templars around him staring at the flags with weird expressions.

“Andraste for my faith,” she answered. “The people for the people of Thedas, from Ferelden to Tevinter to Par Vollen.” In the corner of her eyes, she spotted Bull shifting. He was surprised. “I don’t really care much about the templar order, but I acknowledge that they do good when not led by assholes.”

Ser Barris looked really confused.

“Oh… Okay,” he said, uncertain. “If you’ll follow me…”

Leilani stepped into the room.

“Ser Barris,” she said, stopping – she stopped everyone from coming in. “Close the door and bar it. Now.” Her senses were haywire, the hair raising on the back of her neck as Lord Seeker Lucius stepped from around the desk, templars starting towards the door.

_Shit!_

Leilani turned, drawing her hand back and shoving it in a concussive blast. Ser Barris yelped as it slammed shut in his face.

The door slammed shut, with her several feet away from it. She whirled again, watching the templars with glazed eyes approach her.

_I knew this idea was a bad one. Why did I suggest it? I should’ve just stuck with the mages!_

She dodged the swipe of the blade of the red templar, getting inside his guard and nicking the blade from him, cleaving through the red templars in a swift movement. The demon that had taken Lucius’ form strode towards her, his form melting to see –

_Her._

“Bitch, you are _not_ taking my form!”

She completely forgot all of her training and found herself tripping over –

 _Cullen._ Cullen, with the red-templar eyes, and mist that crawled and this place was –

“ _Fenedhis lasa,”_ she groaned. “I fucked up.”

She knew there was a way out of her own mind, she just couldn’t listen. Couldn’t listen to the whispers that sang in the corners of the huge prison room.

…she stood there, with Antiva-ambassador lady there. Leliana stood beside her. All three of them were immobile, until –

 _“Your form is so pretty,”_ Envy whispered, using Leilani’s form. _“But I cannot read you as well. Your mind is far too… Guarded.”_ She withdrew a knife. _“How would you enjoy it if I killed this woman?”_

Antiva-lady stared vacantly at her.

“Eh.” Leilani shrugged, pretty indifferent. “Demon, I know _exactly_ what you’re doing. Kinda defeats the purpose if I don’t give a shit, doesn’t it?”

Antiva-lady fell. Leilani’s heart skipped a beat for a moment before she remembered.

_This isn’t real._

“ _I’m going to ensure this world falls to ruin,”_ the demon whispered. “ _Nobody will ever know it isn’t you. They’ll be too busy following all my orders… And one by one, the Elder One shall reign supreme.”_

“He’s _not_ going to reign at _all,”_ Leilani scoffed. “I gave the bastard a fake ritual. Tell _that_ to your master.”

Leilani saw the demon’s stolen form fall, Leliana moving quickly. Leilani moved her sword, readying herself.

Thankfully, Leliana didn’t seem to carry her quiver with her.

“ _I wonder how it would feel,”_ the demon crooned, “ _to kill your descendant in front of you?”_

The demon manifested Dorian, who was new to her and yet – and _yet._

 _No. Family is everything._ Even if it meant giving the demon an edge, Leilani would _not let it do it._

Leilani flung her sword. It passed harmlessly through the demon – who laughed and vanished, menacing laughter echoing.

_“Come find me, little one!”_

A flit, in the back. Leilani turned, following with her eyes.

She took a step –

“You don’t want to go that way,” a young male voice said.

Leilani whirled, bringing her fists up. She hesitated – but he did not give off the same sense that demons did.

To Leilani, demons were something that made the hair on the back of her neck rise. In her fortieth year, she had fought against a scourge of them – up until she’d been taken from the makeshift battlefield. Demons had disturbed her in a way that was unsettling to her.

The boy, however, felt like a spirit. Their Fade-song made them easier to deal with than most others. Most others that weren’t elves – elvhen mages, to be specific – didn’t have a Fade-song.

Leilani could only hear it when she was straining to hear it, now. She’d heard a diluted version through Dorian’s presence, and it was only really apparent right after she’d _felt the Fade unhindered._

When a spirit’s Fade-song was heard, it was their purpose that sang. She didn’t know how to understand this one’s Fade-song – that was okay, because he tilted his head.

“I want to help,” he explained, his colorless eyes meeting hers, and Leilani understood.

“How do I get out of here?”

~:~

There was something wrong with Mirwen.

Bull wasn’t sure how to point it out without gathering her attention; he didn’t have a lot of evidence other than her rifling through dead bodies in full view of everyone. Mirwen was usually discreet, as though she understood the whole ‘it’s really disgusting’.

She also took command of the templars with ease. Solas looked as disturbed as Bull felt; Varric cleared his throat.

“I told you before we left I wanted to stay,” he said, loudly. Judging the woman.

“Did you?” Mirwen hummed. “Whatever, I don’t care, Varric. Bye.”

_That’s not the Boss._

She wasn’t a fan of remembering _anyone’s_ names – and most of the time, she just didn’t address Varric by his name. Bull’s she always accompanied with a sly grin – even in the middle of everything. Here, she turned to him without that grin accompaniment and ordered him to get horses ready.

He met Solas’ gaze. His own gaze was hard. Varric looked grim as he vanished back into the keep.

 _He knew._ The demon was hustling them back to Haven.

Solas shifted, glancing into his bag of potions. Bull resigned himself to not getting any sleep for the next few nights.

The demon in Mirwen’s form winced, but quickly recovered.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which: Leilani is a dramatic elf prone to dramatic acts.

“You have to rest,” the spirit said, quietly. “You’ll just fall and die if you don’t. Too much strain. The further the spirit gets, the less hold she has –“

“That bitch is _leaving me here?_ Cole,” she smiled, forcing herself to remain pleasant. “I don’t _like_ being trapped in my own mind. Mostly because it’s all a-shambles right now, and whatever she’s trying to do, it’s not working.”

Shadows, muttering shadows, echoed. Leilani had a feeling they were supposed to be humans and elves, but really…

“She was trying to use your own mind against you,” Cole said, walking alongside her. “Giving you a nightmare of the future that would allow you despair.”

“ _Ha!”_ Leilani snorted. “I can’t imagine what the future looks like anymore. I prefer to go day-by-day. No nonsense of time magic…”

She froze as she rounded the bend.

 _“If you cannot think of the future, then I will show you the past,”_ the demon growled.

“Aw, the glory days? How _nice!”_

Before her lay the battlefield of what was known among the people there as the Battle of Harel’vhen – not exactly an original name, as it literally meant _home of demons/deceivers._ The place where she had earned her name among the people (read: fellow _slaves_ ) as Storm-singer.

Mythal had never known how she’d survived. Better that she didn’t, because if she had there was no doubt that Mythal would have had her killed out of fear of the other Evanuris taking an interest in her.

“Demon, you _clearly_ don’t know how to break people. _This_ will not break me.”

She strode through the battlefield of armored elves, watching their forms turn to mist.

“You are made stronger by their images.” Awe was in the spirit’s voice. “How is it that the deaths of your people make you stronger?”

Leilani stopped and turned, looking around.

“The battle was hard,” she said, honestly. “We were facing fellow slaves who had turned into demons because of something going on in the region.” She could hear it, the sound of battle, the first wave of her kin flashing in the sun. Magic had permeated the air. “They had abilities that were amplified because of their status as abominations – and we had to match them.” She took a deep breath. “We all were going to die eventually. Better to die in battle than in the presence or at the order of our masters.”

She recalled, then, the storm that had rolled in; it was a lightning storm that had made her body sing. Before, she hadn’t been allowed to dabble in anything except what the Priestesses deemed her worthy of – which had been spirit summoning – and lightning had called to her in a way that nothing ever had before.

The first strike had hit the ground in a shaking boom, and the next – Leilani had _reached_ for it, and the world had _exploded_ as the battlefield, too, exploded with the force of lightning slamming into their bodies.

The lightning had hit their first wave of enemies only.

It hadn’t happened during the next, or the next, or the fourth. It had happened coincidentally during the sixth, following her thrown spear, following the death of –

Ha. A _friend._

“The deaths of my people make me stronger because I know I am not better than the ones who came before me,” she forced out, the smell of lightning lingering. “I know I am not better than the ones I walk through. I’m a massive, _massive_ fuckup, and I have to – I have to endure.”

She looked around her.

In her reminiscing, the memory had unfolded, lightning striking the ground in the midst of the first wave.

“…I will not be broken again,” she whispered, looking at her hands. “The Dalish have a saying. _We are the last Elvhen. Never again shall we submit._ They’re not wrong, exactly; they’re the last hope of the Elvhen – but I guess I have to repeat them to you, you demonic bitch.”

She took a breath.

Cole smiled and vanished as she took the memory of lightning and allowed it to sing and dance around her.

_“I AM THE LAST ELVHEN. NEVER AGAIN WILL I SUBMIT!”_

She could feel the blast throwing her forward.

She opened her eyes, and promptly gave a scream of disgusted rage.

Lord Seeker Lucius’ badly disfigured body collapsed in on itself.

She turned to the cell door and let out the most hair-raising scream she could.

Footsteps slammed upwards. Varric appeared, lifting his crossbow.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“ _Get me out of here!”_ Rage was thrumming through her.

He nodded. “Wait a moment –“

Cole appeared, keys jingling.

“You don’t want to be stuck with the body,” he said, obviously. “He would have taken longer.”

He fitted the key to the door and unlocked it. Leilani shoved through it.

“ _Nobody_ takes my _fucking face and gets away with it!”_

She pounded through the stronghold, Varric huffing behind her.

She kicked open the door to the main hall.

Eyes were drawn to her.

“ _GET ME A FUCKING HORSE!”_

Lightning crackled audibly in the silence.

“ _NOW!”_

Ser Barris moved, his eyes wide.

She could see everything change visually; she did not care. The rage simmered in her bones.


	23. Chapter 23

“I’m _me!”_ Mirwen looked upset.

“I don’t think so,” Leliana said, folding her arms. “Cullen, how long do you think you can keep her down here for?”

“Indefinitely, presumably,” Cullen said.

“That should not be necessary,” Solas said, folding his arms. “There _is_ an easy, simple way to know if she is who she says she is.”

“If there was, why did you not _say so_ when she was first brought down here?”

“Because,” Solas said, “she is _obviously_ not the Herald, as she doesn’t even know the Herald’s first name.”

“It’s _Mirwen!”_ Mirwen twisted. “Come on, Solas, aren’t we _friends?”_

“Not in a way that the true Herald would name our relationship so,” Solas returned, coldly. Leliana winced; Mirwen truly did not seem to give a damn about anyone.

“When should the Herald arrive?” Leliana questioned, arching her brow to Solas.

“Today,” Solas answered. “If she rode as hard as her horse was able to, she left two days after we left – that gave us one day here.”

The door above opened.

“Herald’s _here,_ and the Herald is –“

“ _Super fucking pissed!”_ The Herald’s voice roared. “ _Get out of my way!”_

Leliana’s eyes widened as the Herald stormed down the stairs. Her face was twisted in a snarl of rage.

“Open it.” The Herald’s eyes were fixed upon the demon, her hand glowing as the demon’s did.

Cullen opened it without hesitation. The demon flew forward – and was blasted back and pinned.

Mirwen held her hand out – the Anchor sparking, _holding_ the demon back.

“I _draw the line,”_ the elf hissed, “at _trapping me in my **own fucking mind**_ and _attempting to kill the idiots helping me.”_

Yeah. That… _that_ was the Herald they knew.

“You will become as they were,” the demon whispered. The Herald grinned, and it was a terrifying one. For a moment, Leliana swore she saw razor-sharp teeth.

“That may be,” the Herald said. “But that’s my own idiocy. Not for you to judge. Now… Do me a _fucking favor_ and someone _hand me a sword.”_

Cullen unsheathed his and held it out to her.

The woman stalked forward, her hand spitting – _how was she doing that?_ – as she stepped forward.

She grasped the sword.

“If she’s a higher demon, simply stabbing her will not work,” Cullen cautioned.

“I know,” came the curt reply. In response, lightning formed around the blade.

“You will be a slave to him once more,” the demon gasped. “You will serve him, just as I have.”

“No, I won’t,” the Herald hissed. “ _Ma banal, harel.”_

She shoved the blade into the demon, the Mark sputtering out as she did so.

The demon shrieked. Turning into a giant demon, flailing – Cullen hesitated, but the blade in her hand – _Cullen’s_ blade – sparked and the demon exploded.

Along with the sword. 

Leilani hit the wall next to the staircase, flung back by the explosion.

“Fucking –“ the Herald panted, lifting dazed eyes. “Demon.”

She blinked, shaking her head.

“How –“ Leliana gestured to her Mark, which was flickering weakly. “You can control demons?”

Mirwen snorted. “Hardly.” She shook her head and stood, carefully. “Magic I learned. Holding objects without touching them.” She placed a hand on her temple. “Mark just… Helped me hold it, I suppose.” She blinked. “Oh, and there’s a spirit coming to join us. His name is Cole. He helped me.”

“Now that we have both templars and mages,” Cullen said, pouting a bit because he didn’t have his sword. “We were thinking about closing the Breach.”

“Perhaps it can wait a week,” Solas said, reminding them he was still there. He looked a little disturbed, for some reason. “Her mark looks agitated. No doubt the demon’s power made the mark worse.”

“Yeah, it hurts.” Mirwen shrugged. “I’m gonna go and –“

Solas moved, catching her as she collapsed.

“I will go set her in her cabin,” he announced. “I do not know when she will awaken.”

Leliana understood what Solas was really telling them.

_A week might not be long enough to wait._


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little information of Leilani's past.

Dorian had not expected to see her unchained after she’d been dragged into the Chantry, kicking and screaming, by the Iron Bull, with Solas; he’d heard the rumors, but he’d kept to himself with Felix. Leliana had stared at him with narrowed eyes when he’d admitted Felix and himself were from Tevinter, but had merely given them a cabin. Felix had left for Tevinter after going before Leliana, anyway.

Opening his door after hearing a knock about a week after the Incident, Dorian blinked rapidly. Mirwen stood in front of him. Unchained and normal-looking and nobody was screaming about her presence.

_Okay, then. Guess it’s solved._

“Hello,” she said, breath misting in front of her. “It’s cold out here. Can I come in?”

He opened the door wider.

“Thanks,” she said, brushing past him and turning back to him as he shut the door. “You have questions.”

“I do,” he said, thinking about them as he settled on his bed. She took the only other chair in the cabin and sat in it. “Such as… How old are you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Stopped counting after Andraste died.”

That in itself was a shocking revelation, but…

“I saw Tevinter rise,” she said, her violet eyes lowering. “I saw my kinsmen enslaved, and I, too, was enslaved. I saw my people quicken and die, and I do not know why I alone survived. All I know is that I have been alive for so long… When you told me your House – your mother’s House – I felt… _relief._ Sad, of course, that my son never knew who his true mother was, but relief that my son survived.” Her eyes met his. “It’s probably super weird that you’re looking at me – an ancestor – so if you don’t want to know –“

“Actually, I do want to know you.” Given that _she’d_ said the House name before he had ever mentioned it – mentioned his maternal… however many greats-grandfather – he was inclined to believe her.

And whatever she’d done in those foothills had done nothing to harm her case.

“I’m glad to meet an ancestor who doesn’t have a stick up their arse,” he admitted, “but I find it hard to think your explanation would go over well. Perhaps… cousins.”

She grinned at that. “I’m the bastard offspring of House Thalrassian – sounds great! Hey, so what’s the other House?”

“Dorian _Pavus,”_ he said, pointedly.

She made a face. “ _Blegh._ They’re dicks. Or,” she added, “they were during my time. Had a feud with House Thalrassian, too. Did you know it was the Magister Pavus who used a blood-curse on the madam of the House to make her unable to conceive anything?”

“Something to that effect was mentioned,” Dorian nodded. “But there was a tidbit about House Thalrassian not bearing anything but a son, too. Mother was severely disappointed. She is the sole daughter in a line of men, as powerful as she is.”

“I can only hope _my_ grandson would be powerful, too.” She gave him a smile that was surprisingly warm. “Not that I’d give a fuck whether or not you _were_ a mage, by the way. Just made it easier for me to call up the blood-song.”

“Is it… _blood_ magic?” he asked.

His answer was given by the twist in her face.

“Maker, _no,”_ she said. “It’s… Well, maybe,” she admitted. “But it only works in the presence of family members, and my… Well, I was told that I couldn’t use it to control my family, anyway.” She shrugged. “I wouldn’t if I could.”

She offered her hand. Dorian hesitated but took it.

Like last time, he could hear something. His entire body warmed. _Family,_ something in him murmured, as though awakening. _Blood._ He strained to hear something under that – something that was just out of hearing.

“What… _is_ that?”

“The Fade.” He looked up to see her eyes glowing. “It sings… Of magic, of life.” She smiled at him. “That you can hear it is a testament to your connection to the Fade itself.” She withdrew. “It can be dangerous, I think, because unlike me, you’re not… _as_ connected, I think?” She looked confused. “I don’t know. I’m an immortal elf with weird magic, okay, I don’t know _that_ much about it.”

Dorian grinned, despite himself.

“I think you’re awesome,” he announced to her.

She smiled at him. “Thank you.” She paused. “You’re a _necromancer,_ aren’t you?” Her lip curled.

He winced. “I… uh… yes.”

“Oh.” She shrugged and grinned at him. “Nice.”

“You said it so –“

“Oh, I don’t _care_ that you’re a necromancer, it’s just hilarious, your facial expressions,” she snickered. “I don’t care about your specialization. I _dabbled_ in necromancy, but when I did it successfully, I may have set fire to the stables.”

Dorian frowned. “Did you revive a horse?” He could imagine it, a horse on fire…

“No, I revived a lizard,” she said. “I didn’t realize they were so fast. Also, it was on hay and I didn’t think it would set the stables ablaze _that_ quickly.”

She shuddered. Dorian turned his head to stifle his laughter. He sobered up after a moment.

“What magic did you end up…” He trailed off.

“Lightning,” she said. “Combined with Knight Enchanter during the First Exalted March.”

Dorian blinked at her.

“Were you inside most major -?”

“No,” she snorted. “That’d be too fucking coincidental. I _was_ at Red Crossing, true – something… I dunno, something called me there.” She shrugged. “I go where I am called. Things, good and bad, tend to happen.”

Dorian hummed, trying to wrap his head around that.

“Felix,” he realized.

“Don’t worry about him. Healing won’t leave him, and Healing is honest.” Mirwen looked honest about that. “She is not so easily swayed, and her attention will be on Felix until he comes back. He _is_ coming back, right?” She looked worried.

“Of course!” Dorian had asked him. Felix was accompanying his father to Tevinter. He eyed Mirwen. “Who were your parents?”

Parentage… _was_ important in Tevinter.

Pain flashed across Mirwen’s face. Dorian regretted asking her.

“My mother was Mythal,” she said, looking away. “My father was Dirthamen.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I grew up in my father’s temple,” she admitted, heavily. “And then he sold me to my mother after visiting the future.”

Dorian’s eyes widened in shock. Both at the names of her kin – knowing, in elvhen culture, Mythal was the mother-goddess and Dirthamen was some other god of some kind – and at the information of what had happened to her to bring her to now.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “I am so sorry,” he said, hoarsely.

She smiled. “It’s fine,” she said. Dorian didn’t quite believe her. “It happened a long, long time ago. I just hate time magic because it reminds me that my father did not want me.”

“My father disowned me,” he blurted. “I know it is not the same, but –“

His eyes widened as her violet eyes flared.

“I’m sorry,” she said, silkiy. “Your father did _what.”_

Dorian gulped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much, because I like to keep you hooked! Lemme just say when we get to some flashbacks *grins* ya'll are going to either hate me or love me. 
> 
> Probably hate me.  
> Meh.


	25. Chapter 25

“Cole.”

Cole turned to him. His eyes were wide, as though shocked Dorian would _actively_ seek him out.

“You can see me?”

“I… need your help?” Dorian asked, awkwardly. “I saw you in the Singing Maiden.”

“Oh.” The spirit tilted his head. “How can I help you? You don’t have any hurts I can help with.”

He sounded disappointed.

“Not… a _hurt,”_ Dorian said, hesitantly. “I want –“

“You want to help her!” Cole’s eyes lit up – before they dimmed. “But I can’t help,” he said, sounding legitimately dismayed. “She has hurts that cannot be eased, cannot be erased. Cities falling, crashing and burning; the screams still haunt her in her sleep.”

Dorian swallowed.

“All the people she could not save,” Cole said, his voice quiet. “She doesn’t want you to be one of her failures.”

“I just wanted to know if you knew how to do her Fade thing,” Dorian managed to get out past the block in his throat. He remembered the protective fury that had arisen in wake of _my father and I had a violent disagreement_ ; her eyes had hardened.

He had a feeling that if she knew the reason –

“She wouldn’t care,” Cole said, frowning. “She loved a woman, with all her heart. She died in flames. She still dreams of her sometimes.”

Dorian’s eyes widened. _Vishante kaffas –_

“Solas can help,” Cole said, turning away. “He can help with magical things. He might not be happy.” Cole cocked his head. “But I think he’ll help you.”

Cole pointed to where the older elvhen mage was.

Dorian cast a look to him before turning back.

“Damn it,” he hissed, Cole long gone. Dorian stalked up to the bald elf.

Solas glanced at him, moving his sketch aside. Dorian didn’t care.

“How,” he said, abrupt and really rudely, “does an elf _connect_ magically with a close family member?”

The bald elf choked on whatever the fuck he was drinking.

~:~

“So, quick question.” Bull eyed the Tevinter man. “You and Boss-woman a thing?”

He didn’t want to get in the way, after all, if his Boss was love with someone else.

The ‘Vint looked pained. “No,” he answered. “She and I recently found we have a connection.” A ghost of a smile crossed the ‘Vint’s face. Solas glanced over at him. “She is my cousin on my mother’s side.”

“Only related through the fact his mother’s mother was an elf,” Mirwen said, making Bull jump as the elf appeared. “My grandmother.”

“Oh.” Bull thought about it. “So, definitely not into each other.”

“Nope.” Mirwen patted Bull’s arm. “And I heard one of the Chantry sisters whispering about you, Bull.”

Bull smirked. “I know.” They _did_ like to brag.

“Please be careful,” Mirwen said, glancing up at him. “The _last_ thing I need is for you to end up being chased _away_ from Haven. I’d have to hunt you down.”

“Aw, but you _like_ chasing people! What would we be doing out here anyway?” Bull smirked.

She turned, and for once, her face was serious. No grin touched her lips.

“ _Be careful,”_ she said, no trace of a smirk. “All of you.” Solas inclined his head; Dorian offered her a smile and a nod. “I’d hate to lose even one of you idiots. You’re useful.” She was frowning as she said it.

Bull, in that moment, realized what she was saying.

The demon Mirwen had called them ‘friends’. In her head, the Boss labeled them as _friends._ She just couldn’t admit it aloud – well, she did, by calling them _idiots._

“I’m _family!”_ Dorian said, smirking even as he called that out in an injured tone.

“And an _idiot_ if you’re sticking by me,” countered the woman, a smile appearing on her face.

She turned.

“Hey, does being born in Tevinter make it to where I can call _you_ a ‘Vint, Boss?” Bull asked, mirthfully.

“You could,” the woman said, “but then I’d call you _ghest’hunvhen.”_ She turned flinty eyes to Bull. “Born in Tevinter or not, I do not wish to be reminded of my _slavery,_ Bull.”

Bull winced. “Sorry, Boss. Forgot.”

“It’s fine. And forgotten.” She smiled and literally skipped forward. “So… Who are we hunting again?”

“One of the Venatori bastards who’ve made a home here,” Dorian said. “Or a camp. Your spy master’s agents said they were here.” He frowned. “I was hoping to see if they were actually –“

He broke off, because Bull and Dorian had crested the hill and saw an altar of skulls.

“Blood magic.” It was Solas who summed that up, in a hiss of words.

“Necromancy and blood magic, probably.” Mirwen knelt to the ground, casting a hand above it. “Or… They built the altar to Corypheus or the ancient gods.”

“Probably Corypheus,” Dorian added. “You can _feel_ magic?”

“Residue, if it’s blood magic. It was useful in Tevinter,” the elf woman said with a shrug. Bull hummed to himself, wanting to fight something; he heard a shuffling. Mirwen was moving already. “Of course,” she said as she stood, removing a couple knives, “they could be coming _back,_ so maybe we should leave.”

They were listening, Bull knew – they’d be gone if they saw her. Or Mirwen just couldn’t give a damn. She turned to Solas, readying her blade. “We should come back later, right?”

“Of course,” Solas said, moving silently and removing his staff. “Staying would be detrimental. We’ll have to catch them in the act.”

Mirwen nodded, backing up slightly. Bull made sure to stomp his feet a couple times when Mirwen nodded at him.

“Well, my companions are all gone,” Dorian said, in a loud voice. Bull saw an approving expression on Mirwen’s face. “Too bad about all the blood magic. Terrible thing to waste.”

He did not sound like he was putting effort into it.

Something ghosted over Bull’s skin as Mirwen closed her eyes, her lips moving in a soundless spell. Magic that he didn’t like. Mirwen and Solas vanished from sight – Bull looked at his hands and saw nothing.

_Shit, I’m invisible._

Dorian, however, was still there. He moved forward, muttering about the altar.

An _ambush._ Mirwen and Dorian had _planned_ this.

 _Damn,_ they were sneaky.

The mages stepped into the area, an unresponsive person in between them, hanging limply. Bull slipped forward.

Dorian turned.

“Hello, fellow countrymen.” Dorian’s smile looked a _lot_ like Mirwen’s. Sharp and shrewd and yet angry. “I must confess… I don’t really _like_ blood magic. At all.”

Just like that, as soon as Dorian stopped talking, the invisibility dropped. Mirwen was still where she was, but Solas and Bull were already in motion. Two of the three mages were immobilized and dead.

The third was holding the unconscious girl.

“You fools! I will have that power –“

“ _Shut up,”_ Dorian said, his eyes cold.

Was it wrong that Bull actually found the man attractive? He could _definitely_ see the family resemblance. Their skin tones and expressions were just… _too_ familiar.

Mirwen was holding a blade at the third mage’s throat. Bull noted she was definitely paler than when she’d started the weird spell.

“Now, let’s have a chat,” the woman chirped. “Bull, do me a favor and tie him up.”

Bull did as instructed, even as Solas stepped up.

“You do not intend on killing him?” he asked, curious.

“Not exactly into ‘ _murder’_ , Solas. This little stain might be a murderer, but I figure that Tevinter will have something worse for him.” Mirwen grinned.

“Not like they’ll do anything,” Dorian said, shrugging.

“No…” Mirwen chuckled. “Not if they’re simply _escorted_ there.”

“You _cannot_ be serious,” Solas frowned.

Bull understood immediately.

“After the Breach, I’m going to Tevinter.” The woman grinned, the picture of innocence.

“Assuming, of course, you survive _closing_ the Breach,” Solas retorted, folding his arms.

“Of course,” Mirwen agreed, easily. “I know I might die wielding this mark, but that makes this whole _planning_ thing a little more fun! Leliana insisted, actually.” Mirwen looked annoyed for a moment. “She got tired of me suggesting little things for my funeral.”

Everyone in the clearing, including the mage, stared at her.

“What?” She looked irritated at their stares. “I thought I’d be proactive. I wrote a list of woods I wanted for the for-show coffin. Apparently the _Herald of Andraste_ would _have_ to have an Orlesian funeral. I suggested flowers – of course, crystal grace, and embrium and feladaris –“

“Crystal grace _looks_ pretty, why the _fuck_ would you have embrium and feladaris?” The Tevinter mage actually seemed affronted. “Shitty Orlesians,” he added. Dorian, too, looked affronted – though Bull didn’t know if it was at the whole ‘shitty Orlesians’ part, the whole ‘flowers to be put on grave part’, or the fact they were _chatting_ with a Tevene blood mage about the Herald dying.

Bull really wondered at her mental state. He made a mental note to bring that up with Leliana. Maybe one of those humans from Antiva that worked to understand the human mind could meet ‘em after they stopped the hole in the sky.

“I agree,” the elf nodded, seriously. “’Specially since if I were being honored with a funeral back home, I’d have to settle with crystal grace and – and prophet’s laurel, right, Dorian? ‘Cause I’m apparently Andraste’s prophet or some shit like that, and back home, well –“ she grinned at the Tevinter man, who blanched in horror at something. “Tevinter _does_ have it’s literal meanings in death. For _my_ funeral, I’d want it to be _fun,_ so the embrium and feladaris would be… to smoke it.” She grinned. “’ _Mourn not, for I don’t give a shit about anything’_ would be on my headstone.”

Dorian’s brows rose.

It was at this point, the sacrifice moved.

She screamed. Thrice.

“Calm down!” Mirwen stood, moving to her. “You were about to be a sacrifice, lady, I think you ought to be a little _calmer.”_

“I didn’t – Mother said not to go outside!” The girl’s face teared up. “Where am I? Am I still in Orlais?”

“What did you _give_ her?” Bull asked the Tevinter man, who looked shocked – but covered it up. Bull grabbed his upper arm and flexed it menacingly. The man’s face paled.

“ _Just some normal sleeping potions!”_ The Tevene man squealed. “We had her bound in a cave!”

“Yeah, and you _kept_ me bound in there, you demented fool!” The woman drew herself up – wearing a threadbare tunic and some worn leggings. “My House will have your head for this!”

“You’re a noble.” Mirwen wrinkled her nose. “ _Orlesian?”_

“No,” the woman snapped. “I’m from Ostwick. House Trevelyan! _Bastard_ kept me drugged up, and I didn’t expect to wake up after being dragged out here and to wake up to _dead bodies and a Qunari!”_

“Oh.” Mirwen scrutinized her. “That _it?”_

The girl suddenly went silent, staring at Mirwen for a moment before nodding.

“I doubt it,” Mirwen said. “Come on, we have to meet Leliana’s agents. They’ll be taking this dick elsewhere while we go do our thing. He was just the only one we managed to find.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tags DO say 'crack' on it, so here there be crack.
> 
> Also, it's a way to lighten the moment before next chapter.
> 
> And yeah, in this 'verse, Antiva is home to therapists.


	26. Chapter 26

Leilani had not been joking about what she wanted for her own funeral. As she looked around Haven, she realized that if she… if she _did_ die… She drew herself away from the townspeople, drifting into her given cabin.

She perched in front of her chest of drawers. She’d settled into Haven nicely; to her detriment and disgruntlement, she’d actually started _liking_ these weird people who insisted on calling her Herald.

She opened the drawer she’d put quite possibly her most prized possession. A necklace, handed to her through bars of an ancient prison in Tevinter. She’d hidden it – long-since having the chain enchanted so she could wear it – while with the Dalish, because they could not understand the reason of having such a thing.

Andraste had worn it until that night, given to her by Shartan – who had later been cut down – who had given her, who had attempted to break her out of the prison, the necklace.

She had attempted to give it to Shartan before her re-capture, but he had not taken it, smiling and saying nothing.

She removed it from the drawer and put it on.

It was a miniature dragon. Lovingly forged by a Dalish tribe before they’d left to start their crusade against Tevinter, it contained so much memory it almost hurt.

It nestled above her heart – where her friends would remain.

Today might be the last day of her life.

She hadn’t had time to get her old armor from that one temple in the Emerald Graves, so she stuck with the coat she’d gotten from Vivienne – made of dragon scales. She smiled humorlessly; it didn’t bother her, mostly because she hadn’t changed since she’d killed Maferath.

She noticed that her eyes would do the dragon thing – she’d enter dragon-sight. But she honestly hadn’t actively changed for _years,_ so –

Her hair… Well, she wanted to look _good,_ if this was her last night, so she dithered before the glass for a while.

If she was honest, she’d actually forgotten that she might die. Solas had cautioned her, over and over in the rare moments she’d seen him – _you might not survive the mark upon your hand._

It… was ironic, she supposed, because now that she wanted to live almost more than anything, Leilani was dying. Will die. Sometime in the near future.

 _Think of it as ‘wish granted’,_ she thought to herself, angrily as her fingers curled around the dagger she’d probably not need. Here she was, in borrowed clothes and –

Leilani burst into tears.

 _I don’t want to die,_ she realized in the midst of those choking tears.

She didn’t hear the knock, didn’t hear the door open.

“Leilani!”

Dorian’s voice met her ears.

She lifted her head.

“I’m getting my wish,” she forced out. “If I die…”

 _I don’t want to die,_ she wanted to hurl at him.

His eyes softened, and he hugged her. She curled around her only available descendant and wept upon his shoulder.

Something thickened in the room. A warmth, curling inside her. The Fade sang around them.

She gradually stopped crying as she realized what it was.

“How?” she croaked to him.

“I… may have been talking more with Cole,” the human admitted. “He did not know exactly how it worked, but when Solas found out you were able to do that with me…”

“Solas – _Solas_ knows how to do that?” She blinked up at Dorian rapidly.

“Yeah, I was surprised. But he said… something about family always being important.” Dorian just held her closer. “While his sense of fashion is quite atrocious, it’s slightly made better by his magical prowess.”

She giggled wetly.

“Dorian… I want you to have something, if I don’t make it. If… If my wish is granted.”

She shifted, pulling a drawer opened.

“If I don’t make it… And you do. I want you to hold onto this for me.”

It was a bracelet. Seemingly ordinary, it was still the only present Mythal had given Leilani in all the years she was her mother. It had been the year after Leilani had been sold to her. It was a year to the day that Mythal had had her _vallaslin_ burned into her daughter’s brow.

 _Wear this when all hope is lost,_ Mythal had murmured. _And you will find hope._

Leilani had worn it only four times in her lifetime.

She’d met Andraste the first time. The second time she’d killed Maferath. The third time she’d been at Red Crossing. And the fourth time… She’d met Alistair.

“I don’t think I can take it,” Dorian said, gently.

She looked at him.

“I know you think you’re going to die,” he said, “but you should have hope, too.”

She almost laughed.

“Mother gave this to me,” she admitted in a small voice. “It has only drawn me to places where history has been made.”

Instead of looking wary of the damn bracelet, he looked… _considering._

“Well, history is going to be made tonight,” he mused. “So why don’t you wear it, Grandmother?”

He smiled at her teasingly. Gently. Teasingly.

She laughed quietly.

“I suppose you have a point.” She sighed as she slipped it on.

Nothing happened.

~:~

“You look… Good,” Solas said, looking over her. She carried no staff, as she typically did not; her hair was loose, crowned by a braid that fell into loose hair. Brushes of what looked to be Josephine’s… make-up danced across her face.

Dorian looked unhappy. Probably because he had… Solas tried not to smile. The mage had glitter in his hair. Presumably from helping the Herald – Josephine had been evacuated, along with the other civilians.

“Glitter gets _everywhere,”_ Dorian explained. “How the fuck is so much of it in women’s makeup? _Mother_ doesn’t even have so much glittery make-up!” He looked to Solas expectantly. Solas said nothing, casting his amused face elsewhere.

“Perhaps because only fools put on make-up to look pretty,” Cassandra inputted, frowning, “when they are _supposed_ to be meeting us at the Temple.”

“Oh, shut up, Seeker,” Mirwen said, her tone light. “If I die tonight closing the shitty hole in the sky, I’m looking _gorgeous_ whilst doing so. So, _yes,_ I snuck some of Josephine’s make-up. Go ahead and _stab me_ for being a _tiny_ bit late when _you_ are just going to hide behind all the mages and shit that’ll be following.”

The Seeker looked pissed.

“Seeker, it would be best _not_ to upset her,” Solas advised. Pissing off the highly volatile mage who was just starting to like the people around her was certainly _not_ a good idea. She didn’t _seem_ to have Mythal’s temper – good, for how much she still looked like the woman.

“Also, Dorian… _you_ offered to help me. If I’d had any idea you _didn’t_ know how to help put the shite on, I would’ve just slipped out to ask Monty.”

Solas’ brows shot up as Cassandra stared at her.

“ _Monty?”_ she drew out.

“Yeah. The Antivan ambassador lady.”

“You mean _Lady Josephine,”_ Cassandra growled.

“No, I mean _Monty,”_ the Herald snapped, her violet eyes filling with ire. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really fond of anyone’s name but The Iron Bull’s and Dorian’s and Solas’. Nobody else seems to have a problem with that, _Seeker,_ so I suggest you take that stick that’s up your ass and _remove_ it, else you and I will have even _more_ of an issue.”

The Seeker and Herald glared at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like giving hints of what's going to happen. Mostly because it's fun. There's also another reason, one I won't share with you QUITE yeah, hehe. So, on occasion, there will be OBVIOUS imagery for Solas - nothing... bad, I don't think, just kind of funny.   
> To me, anyway.  
> Also, Cassandra, at this point, does not actually know what Leliana and Cullen know about her. THAT conversation is set to happen later on...
> 
> And if you're wondering, no, Dorian wasn't actually helping Leilani put makeup on. He was in the room, she decided to have a little fun and make his head a little glittery. No time to wash it out, because - and I speak from experience - glitter gets EVERYWHERE.


	27. Chapter 27

_The one thing Rasa forgets is a knife._

_She’s usually covered by her fellow Guards on hunts; she’s not scared any more of the Wilds. They call to her in a way that nothing else does, but as Rasa turns to face the being bearing down on her she can’t help but try to fumble for a knife._

_She’s forgotten it, in her haste to finish dressing two days before. It’s probably sitting underneath her bed in the barracks, jammed into her mattress like every other illicit thing they’re not supposed to have – such as Tamlin’s stolen books, or Rasa’s own cache of stolen coin and jewels that she would surely be killed for if they’re found by anyone other than Phaedra or Lorena or any of the Guard._

_Not like a knife is helpful. Not here._

_Rasa takes a breath and meets the dragon’s eyes squarely._

_It’s old. It’s terrifying._

_But it’s also… Calling. The dragon stills, eyes boring into Rasa’s own as it leans down, opening its maw; searing, reeking, decayed breath runs over her as it growls softly in warning._

_Do not move, it seems to say._

_Rasa does not. Petrified, cold, and barely holding onto her fish basket, Rasa does not move._

_“Oi, Rasa! Come on, Theren’s got a story!”_

_The dragon growls and shifts, powerful legs shifting as a crashing sound came from behind her._

_“Mythal’s bouncing tits!” Palil gasps._

_The dragon flexes and jumps._

_And in that moment, Rasa yearns to fly as they do._

_Majestic, free._

_Even in her bird form, Rasa is chained to Mythal._

_“Looks like you got a better story,” Palil hums. “You all right, Rasa?”_

_“’m fine,” Rasa whispers, staring at the dragon’s slowly vanishing form._

~:~

Leilani blinked at how easy it was to open the Breach. Templars quickly dispatched the demons that spawned out of it.

Now, though – came her possible death. She took a deep breath and met Dorian’s eyes.

She offered only a smile as the mages sank to their knees, preparing to help her.

The templars shifted.

Leilani took a deep breath.

_Mother… If I die… I want to thank you. If you let me have this bracelet because you knew you were going to die… Thank you._

Leilani raised her left hand, tearing her eyes away from Dorian and looking into the Breach.

Pain exploded in her arm, making her grit her teeth against it.

She refused to let it break her. She poured everything she had into it, shoving it all through her arm and into the Breach.

From all around her, mages focused on her. Relief was found as they poured what they had, giving it to her.

Not much, though – the Breach gave a loud sound akin to a wail and sealed itself up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all knew she wasn't going to die.  
> What would this story be if I allowed it to end?
> 
> :)


	28. Chapter 28

Leilani yawned as she watched the revelers.

“So, Boss. What’re ya planning now?”

“I’m going to close up rifts and stop Corypheus,” she answered. Her eyes latched on the snowy mountains, and she shivered.

“He’s coming!” Her shout went unnoticed. Bull tensed – as him being the only one near her; his eye swiveled to her hand, where a flaring pain was starting.

 _Not again,_ she thought, desperately. “Bull, get them to the Chantry!” She turned – and her vision shattered.

_A tunnel. A lantern, swinging in the dark._

_“Roderick!”_

_The lantern crashes to the ground._

Leilani was thrown violently into the Chantry.

Well, nice to have an unexplained vision at the most _appropriate_ time. How _convenient._

“Damn it, Boss – _not_ a time to leave us!”

“Tunnel,” she rasped, moving and holding her head. _Ow._ “Father… Roderick, he knows of a way out.”

The Father paled rapidly as all eyes turned to him.

“They are _all_ going to _die_ ,” Cassandra said, loudly. All attention turned to the woman. She turned, looked at Leilani, and flinched for a moment.

In fact, everyone was staring at her.

“ _What?”_ she asked, frowning.

“Your nose is bleeding profusely. It is a ghastly sight,” Cassandra said, grimacing. “And your eyes, too.”

“Oh. Great. Now I’m bleeding from my eyes and nose. _Whatever,_ just round the people up!”

She grabbed the nearest weapon she found.

It was a staff.

The moment her hand closed around it, the mark Corypheus had made was drowned out by the Fade. The world was suddenly quieted by the silent song of magic, and deep in her bones she could feel lightning heeding her call. Her thin connection to the Fade through the Veil sharpened.

She turned, staring at the people in the Chantry. Sound rushed back to her, with a quiet _pop_ – they were all looking to _her._

“We have a fucking asshole to defeat. _Stop_ standing around and looking like fucking morons and _go get the people out of the town!”_

She turned, Fade-stepping out of the room – and it was fucking _amazing._ She forgot, for one blessed moment, why she’d stopped using magic.

She stopped, for a moment, in the middle of the horror and death that spun around her; she summoned balls of lightning that called to her snapping spirit and singed the flesh of the demons. Cole came in, daggers flashing – the spirit and lightning mage shared a single glance before Cole vanished.

“Now, don’t get me wrong,” Dorian panted, hitting her back. “I _do_ enjoy fighting with you, but how are we going to stop Corypheus?”

“Not sure,” Leilani replied, flicking the staff expertly. “He’s coming, I sense –“

A fireball exploded near them. Leilani was tugged away from the blast, Dorian hauling her away. Leilani gasped, her fingers clenching on her staff for a moment before Dorian released her.

“Dragon,” she whispered. “Oh, Andraste’s tits, how are we going to fight that?”

“We’re _not,”_ Dorian said, decidedly. “We’re just going to help… _distract it._ You’re good at distracting things, right, O Ancient Elf?”

“Oh, _screw off,”_ Leilani said, childishly.

“ _Hmph.”_ Dorian smirked at her. “Come now, _cousin,_ let’s go distract the damn dragon.”

Leilani nodded, sobering up – then she Fade-stepped out of Haven, skidding to a stop and nearly overbalancing at the trebuchet.

“ _Go!”_

Leilani remembered the ancient Elvhen trebuchets. While in Mythal’s private army, they’d given her and a few of the other new slaves the history, the lore, and the fucking _chance to fire_ a giant ball of green, magical fire at Mythal’s castle.

One of the better things about being Mythal’s slave? Mythal… was only cruel when she needed to be. Leilani knew very well that Mythal was actually a better master to be enslaved under; when she’d been ordered to spend a week with June, June had just –

Well. Suffice to say Mythal, while understandably not pleased that a slave had launched a magical flaming green ball at her own castle, was also understandable that a nine-year-old child had _curiosity._

As the daughter of Mythal and Dirthamen… Well, again, suffice it to say that Mythal _did_ have _limits_ to understanding a nine-year-old girl having a fascination with flaming magical green fire. Leilani would never, _ever_ regret being punished like she had been.

Leilani knew the green fire itself had been harmful to the demons, and had learned later of Veilfire – the green fire had not been the same, but nevertheless, Leilani lit the damn thing on fire. Well. With _Veilfire._

And with a kick, the same wonderment that nine-year-old Leilani had seen the flaming green ball of death with was present on ages-older Leilani; the child inside Leilani clapped in glee at her replication.

The dragon _screamed_ with pain when the green fire slammed into it.

“Huh…” Leilani grinned.

“What did you just –“

 _“Veilfire!”_ Leilani beamed. “Tell Solas to light the trebuchets with Veilfire and _fire them at the dragon!”_

“ _Why?!_ We don’t have enough time to go ‘round lighting –“

“We’re _mages,_ you idiot!”

“Right – but the point is we can’t keep doing that! The dragon will –“

Leilani turned, focused – a rock clumsily fell into the trebuchet as it sprang back, fueled by Leilani’s split attention. She waved her hand, lit the rock as it settled, and then gestured towards the mechanism that made the trebuchet move again.

She turned – Dorian was gone.


	29. Chapter 29

“ _Fucking showoff!”_ Dorian was, admittedly, jealous of the woman that was his ancestor.

He had been _very_ skeptical – as in, _so_ skeptical he’d almost written his mother. Then he’d _thought_ of his mother.

Aquinea Halward nee Thalrassian had similar coloring to Mirwen, but that could have been said of most Tevene (save Krem of the Chargers. He was pale. Very pale, despite getting out in the sun with the Chargers); even the Fade-song may have been explainable by manipulation.

Problem was… Her _eyes._

Neither of Aquinea’s parents had the odd snapping hue of purple. Not _quite_ violet – but purple. Odd as it was, her magical prowess was… _extraordinary,_ according to her father.

Many old magisters that had fallen from grace had claimed to be of the elven lineage. Dorian had thought the rumors odd, and silly.

But his grandfather… Now, it may have been a thousand years, but Dorian wondered if elvhen heritage was only brought out in certain people. He certainly did not have it, but his mother could pass for one.

Probably best, then, that her father had kept her hidden until the tie between the Houses were made.

 _An exceptional match of power,_ Halward had told him sternly. And when Halward had thrown him out, Halward had snapped at Aquinea, _this blood is **your** blood._

Aquinea had stilled. Usually, Aquinea was the perfect magister’s wife, even to Dorian’s eyes. She smiled, never openly disobeyed Halward even in his own home, but Aquinea had _glared_ at Halward.

 _Never upset a boat in a storm,_ she’d told him once, when he was picking his elemental specialty. _My family’s predilection has always been lightning._ It was one of the only times Aquinea had ever mentioned her family – as though there were a great shame upon it, so that it was never spoken. But Dorian’s grandfather on Aquinea’s side had not had any shame in it, though it was rarely mentioned.

Grandfather Thalrassian – Dorian honestly could not remember his name, it was a while ago he had died – had never openly hated elves. Part of the reason the House had become obscure, though it did have a seat in the Magisterium. The House had a shit ton of secrets – secrets of which Dorian knew little. He knew of the curse upon the family from House Pavus – that they should only bear one son per generation, and that they only _have_ one child per generation of House Thalrassian. His grandfather had left everything to Dorian, nothing to Aquinea (possibly due to the fact she would have had to share it with Halward), nor to his aunt, who was only a little older than Dorian himself; Dorian simply hadn’t had the time to slip to go _into_ his grandfather’s estate.

Apparently it was warded up the ass.

Nevertheless, Dorian felt that what Mirwen said was true. And he _had_ gone to Solas – albeit like he was getting fingernails pulled, because asking the elf who was apparently self-taught _and_ a dreamer was a hit to his pride.

 _Being able to do that was relegated to the Ancient Elvhen,_ Solas had said. _It is possible Mirwen is descended from them, and learned it from her parents. I know only the theory, as I have not had any blood-kin. It is not something that is possible between anyone not magically-bound together or blood-kin._

Solas spoke from experience, if judging by his blank expression was any kind of tell.

Now, as he approached the other elf, he couldn’t help but wonder if Solas had the same kind of ability as Mirwen.

“Solas!” he panted. (It was no _small_ walk to where Solas was – inside Haven, next to the other trebuchet…) “Mirwen said to light the stones with Veilfire and aim them at the dragon!”

“Veilfire does _noth –“_

Another ball of green was launched into the air. The dragon roared as it grazed the tail of it. The green ball vanished beyond the peaks.

“I see,” Solas said, his eyes narrowing. “Let us –“

The dragon spat fire, hitting another ball of green fire.

“ _Shit!”_ Dorian turned, ready to run – only to see a blur, the Herald looking mightily pale as she skidded to a stop, staff being the only thing holding her up.

“Dorian, take this.” She tossed him the staff. “Solas, light up the stone and fling us up there!”

Solas paled, his face going a stark white. Dorian did a double take.

“You _cannot_ be serious, _lethallan.”_

“You are _insane_ – the dragon might not –“

“ _Trust me_ when I say that this will confuse them,” she said, interrupting them as she climbed into the trebuchet. “’Sides, I’ve done this before.”

Solas and Dorian both stared at her.

“Well?” she arched an impatient brow at them. “Light it up and fling it before the beast can destroy this!”

“If you do this –“ Solas began.

Dorian got it. She was creating a diversion for the dragon _and_ Corypheus – _he_ was the only one that understood.

“I’ll send up a flare when they’re away,” Dorian settled on. _If you survive this,_ he added.

“Good… And, Dorian. Here.”

Something silver was tossed at his face before a necklace was tossed at his face.

“Bracelet will protect you,” she said, briskly. “It’s got some kind of magic on it. Not sure what, it’s fucking weird and my mother gave it to me. Wear it so I’ll know you’re safe. And Solas, don’t be an ass to my cousin, okay? He’s not like the rest of the family.”

Dorian put the bracelet on, as ordered, sliding the necklace into his pocket.

Solas lit the Veilfire and gestured.

And Mirwen’s delighted whoop was heard as she was sent flying.

“I feel as though she’s a moron,” Dorian voiced.

“Yes,” Solas nodded, “but we must go.”

Dorian nodded. The trebuchet re-setting drew his attention – but it was done before he looked, and Solas looked at him with a veiled face.

 _Powerful fuckers,_ he thought, oddly fondly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure that Leilani's craziness is, at this point, contagious to her descendants and I didn't ACTUALLY mean to write it like that.
> 
> Huh.
> 
> Also, we're getting some flashbacks of Leilani's past - there won't be one EVERY chapter, because I don't know how this has turned into a monster but it had, and I'm not going to post a thousand-page fanfic on the whole Life of Leilani. Mostly because it's pretty much explained to three others in a big way that you'll see soon.
> 
> Also, if I were to go day-by day, a page a day, it'd be two thousand pages and I'm in college.
> 
> I ain't got time for that.
> 
> Oh! And I mentioned Dorian had an aunt not much older than him. Well... haha. I like sticking him with family members that like him. I really hate Halward Pavus. *grins* I can't WAIT.


	30. Chapter 30

Leilani maybe exaggerated. She’d _flown_ before, never _clutched to a fucking rock flung from a trebuchet with Veilfire on it while aiming for such a target as a fucking **dragon** that was also **flying!**_

She cast as big a barrier as she could, closing her eyes as she felt flame super-heat the rock behind her. The rock exploded; Leilani felt the searing pain rip through her body.

Said body collided with something that smelled _awful._

Leilani ignored the part of her brain that screamed in agony – something she’d learned to while as a Tevinter slave – and instead grasped the flying beast’s spines.

_Oh, that would have been **bad.** I really didn’t think this through fully._

She swallowed, fear settling into her stomach as her stomach also threatened to overturn.

The woman gulped and heaved herself up.

Hopefully the dragon thought she was dead.

Carefully, she let go of the dragon’s spine.

If she’d had enough magic in her body, she would’ve transformed – fought this dragon with her dragon-self. Now that she’d started using magic again, she kind of wondered why she’d stopped.

She had to blind the dragon, first. Well, no knives, no anything – she grimaced at her idiocy.

Looks like she’d have to –

She fell as the dragon dipped, nearing falling off the beast’s back. It went faster than she was used to, landing with a thud that sent her body flying off of it.

“ ** _There you are.”_**

She’d been dragging herself up, but she stopped in shock. Her master’s voice grated above her.

**_“Just as you should be, prostrating yourself below a god.”_ **

A foot settled upon her back, pressure increasing –

_“No!”_

She used what little magic she had to shove herself backwards – by shoving _him_ further away. She tried not to panic as her eyes raked over him and she stood up.

Last time, he’d been only a head above her. Still angry, still had really shit anger issues – but only a head taller. He was a giant now – and he was so crusted with lyrium it was _revolting._ Behind her, his dragon snorted.

 ** _“I suppose I can forgive you,”_** he said, his eyes dead as he looked down at her. **_“After all, you showed me into the Golden City.”_**

“What I did was show you only a way to get yourselves _murdered!”_ She flung that at him. “Because what I did was _create a lie!”_

The ritual he’d ‘found’, or was ‘shown’ – an act of desperation by the thoughts of slaves. One of which had _no_ magical knowledge. All of them had seen the reactions of people using too much magic to go _beyond,_ and it had ended in death. So this ritual – all of them were willing to die if it meant Sethius would, if it meant the Sidereal would die. It had started with ‘ancient’ musings about how ‘Dumat’ had ‘shown’ them a way, and had explained in a shitty, _vague_ way about how to reach Dumat.

“We all did it!” she confessed. “We all participated, every slave I buried – every slave _you_ killed in your attempt to breach the Fade! Well, you’ve been gone for a thousand years, _Cory-piss,_ and you are _no longer my master!_ We all _lied_ so your physical body would die!”

 ** _“I know.”_** Corypheus smiled. It was not a nice smile. **_“I have been to the Golden City. I have seen the seat of the Maker, and it is empty.”_**

And Leilani –

Leilani _laughed._

It was the laugh of _you’re a fucking moron, but okay. Whatever._

Because the Golden City?

 _That was Arlathan,_ the city that had been the center of the Evanuris.

Dreamers had only spoke of it when the Veil was erected. The city itself had vanished when the Veil had fallen, so tied to the Fade it was. Ergo, the only _logical_ explanation was the City was Arlathan, corrupted from Corypheus’ approach.

Sure. Sure. The _Maker’s_ seat.

_Why the fuck would the Maker have a need for a fucking golden castle? No matter how extravagant, no matter how beautiful._

The Maker did not rely on a SEAT to keep His power.

…and if anything, He would have punished Leilani and the others for leading Corypheus – _Sethius_ – to the Golden City, not Corypheus.

“Fuck you and fuck your arrogance,” Leilani said, brightly. “ _Su an’banal i’ma!”_ Not original, but _to the void with you_ was as much as she could think right now, the beginning of burning once more being set upon her back.

He shifted, revealing an elvhen orb –

Her hand sparked in the midst of that realization. He gestured, and Leilani was at once hanging by it, so close her fingers could –

**_“You’ve spoiled it!”_ **

Well, Corypheus sounded _pissed off,_ like _seriously_ pissed off.

_Whatever._

**_“It seems bonded with your living flesh. You were once my favored slave; pity you must die –“_ **

She strained as he brought a lyrium-weapon, made from his own flesh –

Last time, whatever happened had been a blast huge enough to cause a rift in the sky – the Breach. This time, Leilani was simply hoping that whatever was in there would blast her _away,_ preferably in the vicinity of the trebuchet.

She lunged – his grip, while iron clad, only stopped her from moving downward. She moved, gripping his arm with her other as the weapon pierced her skin, white-hot agony shuddering through her even as the tips of her Marked hand touched the elvhen orb.

The blast shot her off to the fence. Green spots danced in front of her eyes. Her hand dangled uselessly, and _oh_ – the moment she moved she felt pain moving through her. Still, she stood.

In the corner of her eye, she saw a burst of fire. In a moment, it spread across the sky, lingered in the same place, and gradually fell back down.

_Dorian._

She screamed something at Corypheus and made a gesture to the trebuchet, using the last of her strength and magic (which apparently was a lot, now, somehow) to move it. Thank _fuck,_ she never thought she’d think this, but thank _fuck_ the Priestesses made her learn how to move things without touching them.

The trebuchet launched the rock and slammed into the wall.

Snow dropped alarmingly fast.

She dropped behind the trebuchet and slid – out of sight – just as snow started smashing the town’s wall, just as Corypheus was slammed with snow.

Maker must have smiled upon her for now, because she fell into an unknown tunnel – the lid snapped behind her with force.

Leilani panted for a long moment. The Maker did not bless her with unconsciousness; instead, Leilani’s burned back ached fiercely. Her stomach rebelled at the slightest movement.

Once more, she ignored it, instead keeping an arm in front of her wound.

She stood, realizing the staff she’d stolen was gone.

No matter; Leilani could walk until she’d regained some of her magic. She used what was left to call to any of the crows.

Shapeshifters had a unique connection to the creatures they shifted into. Leilani, while being the rare kind that could shift into multiple, had only a strong connection with crows right now.

She leaned on that, calling on that bond.

She had no idea if it worked as she kept walking – the pain in her stomach growing steadily worse with every passing hour.

She didn’t have the strength to look. She was afraid she’d look and not be able to take another step forward.


	31. Chapter 31

Leliana blinked at the call of a crow. Another crow appeared – and another.

“Leliana, is this natural?” Cullen was frowning at her.

At his voice, the crows all turned. One of them croaked and flapped off – and then a whole flock of them started flapping their wings, croaking and cawing. People were shifting, looking askance at her.

“I – no, they’ve never done this before!” Leliana had _never_ felt this off. Dorian wandered over.

“Something the matter?”

He, too, eyed the birds.

“Well, yes. As a mage, is there any _magical_ reason they could be acting like this?”

Dorian turned his head, staring at the birds.

“Oh,” he said, looking surprised. “I know _exactly_ why they’re doing what they’re doing.”

“And _why_ is that?” Nobody should fuck with her birds.

“The Herald is a shapeshifter,” Dorian said, serenely. “Clearly she’s using the birds.”

Both Cullen and Leliana stared at him.

“I have _never_ heard of any mage doing that,” Cullen said, flatly.

Dorian arched a brow. “She’s an immortal Elvhen mage. I guarantee she’s probably forgotten more magic than you’ve ever seen, templar.”

Good point, but –

“She _told_ you?” Leliana couldn’t help but feel incredulous. What, was she just telling _everyone?_ That was bound to piss the Chantry off.

“Only because we share blood,” Dorian said. “She’s my ancestor.”

He looked remarkably unbothered by their wide-eyed expressions.

“I knew you were calling her your cousin, but –“ Leliana bit her lip. “I mean, it’s a stretch to believe,” she finished.

“I know for certain. I’m going after the crows.”

“I’ll go with him,” Cullen said with a barely-heard sigh.

Several crows followed.

~:~

Leilani didn’t have much energy left, but as Cullen crested the hill, she used what little energy she had to flap into his armored chest.

She knew she’d transform soon – better that he had a firm grip on her then.

At last, though, as she collided with his armor, the Maker allowed her to fall into blissful unconsciousness.

~:~

Cullen crested the hill, looking around and seeing nothing despite a crow waiting. All of a sudden, he was attacked by a black crow – he yelped and dropped the limp thing in the snow.

A flash of green met his eyes – one of the crow’s feet was green.

“You _dropped_ her,” Dorian said, annoyance in his voice. “Sorry, Mirwen.”

The crow wasn’t moving, and Dorian carefully gathered her in his arms – smoke appeared from nowhere, covering her.

Dorian was unsurprised, apparently, though he did shift her. This brought a low, pained moan from her.

Cullen brought the lantern closer to her. What was –

“We need to get her to a healer, _now,”_ Dorian said, a pained, disgusted look on his face. “She’s been burnt. Badly.”

They brought her in – to absolutely _nobody’s_ surprise, Solas was there. As soon as she was turned upon her front, Solas’ eyes widened for some reason. Burned skin clung to her body, creating a distinct odor.

“I see nothing in need of healing,” he said, after a moment.

“You must be _blind,”_ Cullen said, touching her burned skin, disgustingly fused with her clothing –

It shifted, revealing marred, but unburnt, skin. Cullen couldn’t help blanching and recoiling.

“Somehow, during her walk, it healed,” Solas said, looking pained. “Magical exhaustion, perhaps, or –“

The woman moaned again, her face twisting in pain. The green light in her arm spasmed.

Solas frowned at it.

“Or?” Cullen prompted.

“Or she is sick from sustained cold,” Solas said, sharply. “It seems her Mark was affected by whatever happened. I must look at it and ensure it remains unaffected by other things.”

He gently turned her over, and –

Cullen felt like he was going to throw up. Solas went stark white in the light; Dorian did not have an iron stomach.

The wound on her stomach glittered with growing lyrium crystals – feeding on her body. Dorian ducked away from the tent.

“I must have privacy,” Solas said, firmly.

Cullen ducked out. Dorian just looked ill.

~:~

In the past two months, Solas had helped the young woman several times – when she’d gotten stabbed by her own Keeper. The image of the black-haired woman on the ground like that had made him flash back, _vividly_ and sickeningly, to seeing Mythal in a similar position.

Of course, it was stone and not snow; but the image had been the same. Bull had rushed in, apparently looking for her – the elf who’d stabbed her had gotten away.

Now, again seeing her stabbed in such a way – with _red lyrium_ beginning to grow out of her – made him wonder if she tended to get stabbed by everyone.

She breathed – and her breath hitched. Her face, marred only by the filigree of her _vallaslin,_ scrunched up in pain.

Solas took a deep breath.

 _She is necessary,_ he reminded himself. He dredged up what power he had, his eyes flashing blue as he reached into the woman – to his Anchor, calling back a sliver of its power.

An image flickered in his mind – the part of himself that had gone into the orb while he slept. It snapped back at him harshly, the woman whimpering in pain even as he used it to destroy the red lyrium inside her with a thought.

He blinked, to see the small crystals blowing away. The redness around Mirwen’s wound faded – it was astonishing, to see a healing ability like that of his former kin on this woman.

Her face relaxed as he lifted her, a bit rattled when he glanced at the Anchor. He couldn’t have taken it now – it was bonded to her in a way he had not expected. Even taking that piece of magic had taxed him in a way that surprised him.

He shivered as he fed her a potion, staring at the Anchor on her hand.

_What did you do?_


	32. Chapter 32

_The breeze lifted her dress._

_“Andraste, we have to go.”_

_Andraste turned, her moss-green eyes sparkling._

_“I just wanted to stay a night,” she said, walking over to her. “Shartan agreed it would be good for our minds.”_

_“We’ve been here **three** nights,” Leilani said, exasperation in her tone._

_Something sad flickered over Andraste’s face._

_“You have to wake up.”_

_Leilani shifted. “I’m **wide** awake, Andraste. We have to leave. They’re coming.”_

_Andraste scrutinized her. “Leilani, you don’t have to babysit me. I’m already dead.”_

_A flicker. Flame and burned flesh filled her nose._

_“No, you’re not, you’re here, with me.”_ Deny, deny.

_Andraste came up to her. Andraste usually smelled of lavender, in her memory – and here, too, she smelled of it. Sharp and sweet._

_“Amatus,” the Alamarri woman that had never said that word to her, her green eyes so close Leilani could pinpoint the tiny flecks of brown in them, in the tone a lover would say, bringing her hand up to her face. “ **Wake up.”**_

Leilani jerked awake, a full-body twitch that made the medic – Minaeve, the creature-researcher she’d given her notes to – jerk in shock, a gasp of surprise exiting the other elf’s mouth.

“Are you all right?” Minaeve looked concerned.

“’M fine,” Leilani rasped, carefully sitting up.

Mother Giselle stepped into the tent, offering her a smile.

For a moment, Leilani didn’t move. She waited, watching the people move about.

“We did not expect you to survive,” Mother Giselle said, softly.

“I didn’t think I’d make it, either.” Leilani heard arguing. She shifted, readying to remove herself from her pallet. Mother Giselle sighed.

“You will give them hope,” she said, as though hearing Leilani’s thoughts of plans to flee from this camp. “You have returned, not once, but twice from death.”

“I never died,” Leilani said, taken aback.

Mother Giselle smiled thinly. “You survived the Conclave, from walking in the Fade itself. You sacrificed yourself for Haven, burying it in an avalanche. You came from the dead, twice over.”

Leilani shook her head and stood, fully intending on leaving. She’d _helped_ enough.

Something made her stop though, not three paces from her tent entrance. Leliana stared at a map like it’d give her all the answers, Cullen was just kicking snow looking like a lost mabari, and –

-and Josephine had her head in her hands.

“ _Shadows fall,”_ Mother Giselle started to sing.

And the people – Leliana, Cullen, and Josephine all following suit along with the _rest of the Inquisition_ (save Solas) started with her.

Leilani felt sick as the people sang.

_The dawn has come…_

“I didn’t die and come back,” she insisted, denying it.

“But the people have to believe you did,” Mother Giselle reprimanded. “To lose their faith now… You have not lost yours?”

“No,” Leilani admitted, quietly. “But the people are wrong. I’m no Herald of Andraste. I’m just an elf, who was… Randomly picked. I was just the closest elf to Divine Justinia.” She shivered, the cold air seeping through her thin jacket that was ruined. “Mother Giselle… I will not be lauded as something more than what I am.”

“But what _are_ you?” Mother Giselle’s sharp eyes stared upon her. “You are taller than any female elf I have seen, and have far more power. Will you use that power for good? Or will you let it waste?”

_You think I’m different because I’m **taller?** Huh. Nice. _

“I won’t,” Leilani replied. “But I am not going to be another Andraste.”

“I should hope not,” Giselle said, a wry smile coming upon her face. “One would not wish to see _you_ in flames.”

Leilani’s jaw dropped at Giselle’s statement as the Mother left to tend to more of the other wounded.

Mother Giselle _definitely_ did not intend to make _light_ of Andraste’s sacrifice, probably.

She didn’t _know._ But referencing Andraste and Leilani’s dream –

_No. It’s coincidence._

She kept her head down as the people started going back to their work, passing Dorian and Jenny and Varric. Leilani found herself on the outskirts of the camp, staring at the vast expanse of snow-laden mountains.

“The humans raising up one of our own is a moment we have never seen in our lifetime,” Solas’ voice said from behind her.

Leilani closed her eyes. _I wanted peace and quiet…_

“Solas.” She turned, forcing a smile on her face. He did not return it, looking pensive.

“You do not have to fake it, _lethallan,”_ he said, gently. “Not in front of me.”

She let the smile drop, weariness crashing over her as she turned away again.

“I…” She debated on what she was going to say, and went with being blunt. She never did _subtlety_ well. “That orb he carried. It was of elvhen origin, was it not?”

“It was, indeed.” Solas sounded surprised. “Might I ask how you know it?”

“Well… Humans, while obsessed with power, they wouldn’t put their power into objects that have the risk of being stolen,” Leilani admitted, glancing over at him. “It’s more likely Elvhen in origin, in that Corypheus is a Tevene magister and Tevene magisters typically try to steal magical Elvhen artifacts when they find it, and if it were human it would be an ostentatious piece of shit item and not something that could be used as a paperweight.” He stared at her, his brows raised. “Seriously, though – that orb is _tiny_ in Corypheus’ grasp. I know it’s probably because he’s, like, twice my height – but still! When I touched it the second time –“

“You _touched_ the orb… a _second_ time?” Leilani winced at his tone. “You could have _died._ The Mark could have lashed out –“

“I was already in his fucking _grasp,_ Solas, I couldn’t go anywhere.” Leilani clenched her hand – the hand with the Mark. “I thought it would blast me back.”

“Touching it could have _killed_ you,” Solas said. “It could have torn the Breach asunder –“

“Solas, I got the feeling that merely _touching it_ didn’t blast a fucking hole in the Fade,” Leilani replied, irritably. “Just _touching_ it shouldn’t have given me the Mark. I think I interrupted whatever ritual he was doing on the orb; I’m not certain what he was doing, but from the image in the Fade it looked like he was trying to sacrifice Justinia. If he had nearly succeeded – if he got some of her blood, it wouldn’t be that far-fetched to assume he got further than you or I know.”

Solas was looking at her, looking… _Impressed._

“I… did not know you thought about that,” he said. “You do not seem the type to –“

He paused, suddenly.

Leilani grinned at him. “Let’s just say in my whole _avoiding the rest of the people of Haven_ deal I managed to think of theories. I wasn’t trying to avoid _you,”_ she added, a frown upon her face. “Sorry if it seemed I was. You weren’t usually around when I went looking…” She froze. _Fuck, I just admitted I went **looking for him…** Ugh…_


	33. Chapter 33

Solas was frozen in the snow. To hear such magical theory come from a _Dalish_ woman… It was honestly surprising.

That, and looking at her, she looked _embarrassed_ to admit he’d been nowhere to be found. Solas had stayed in the woods a lot of the time. He knew Leliana’s spies were watching him, so he mostly brought books with him. Only when they left did he allow himself to practice – that, and the few journeys Mirwen had made.

And _Cole._ Cole had been notably absent; other than Mirwen’s introduction, Solas had not seen the young spirit around – helping, constantly, of course, but never in Solas’ view. Mirwen’s indifference of having a spirit other than to tell Cullen _no_ to killing him was also startling.

“You had much on your mind,” he replied at last. “I, too, did not wish to bother you. I did not think you would be open to… other ideas.” He shifted. “We must be ready,” he said. “The backlash of when the knowledge of the orb’s elvhen origins comes to light will not be pleasant.”

“Yeah, I know.” The Dalish elf sighed, wiping her head. “Worse, too, because Corypheus can manipulate…” Her hand drew to her side. “Can you check my side?” She asked, looking afraid.

Solas walked to her with a sharp nod. He swept aside the jacket, exposing her skin to cold air. The House mark upon her skin he knew not the name of glittered coldly in the waning light – the mark itself was bright blue, with –

“That,” Solas said, letting her shirt fall. “Is not good.”

Most of it was blue, with red leaching in from underneath.

“Oh. It’s… getting infected with red lyrium, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Solas said.

“Oh.” She closed her eyes. “Well, I guess that I’ll have to live whatever time I have left to the absolute _fullest!”_ She lifted her arms up and smiled at the moon.

“You are not upset at your impending death,” he observed.

She beamed. “Not at all,” she said. “I’ve lived long enough.”

Solas said nothing as she smiled at him and walked off.

 _I think you have barely begun to live,_ he thought to himself, remaining standing there for a moment.

Now that he had that moment to think, alone – to stare out in the mountains, he allowed himself time to breathe.

He had to _constantly_ remind himself that she was _not_ Mythal. That she bore a striking resemblance to the elf in question did _not_ matter.

It shouldn’t, anyway.

Her reckless action had nearly ended her life. No matter how confident she’d been before – She could have _died._

It did not occur to him in this moment to realize that he was thinking not of the Anchor at all. He did not think to correct himself in his mind about the woman in question.

He took a breath, closing his eyes and calming his mind.

 _She is not Mythal._ Those eyes were not Mythal’s warm golden orbs. _She is not Mythal. She cannot be Mythal._

He turned, watching her hug Dorian, closing her eyes and burying her head into Dorian’s shoulder.

Dorian turned. Dark hair flung behind her as he twirled the elf before setting her down in the snow, the two beginning to chat.

Solas swallowed and looked away.

He had a fortress to find again.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr @skyerie if you want to rant or just talk or yell at me. :D


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